


The Killing Moon

by Coffeepills



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conspiracy, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Power Play, Pre-Konoha, Root - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeepills/pseuds/Coffeepills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood defined it all, one would be discarded if deemed unworthy, clans politics and views would vary but it was a common occurrence to most that imperfections as well as shortcomings were by no means welcomed, much less tolerated. Such were their fates, warriors expectations set upon children shoulders, the prospect of life versus blood potential.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

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Once upon a time ninja wars were a common occurrence, people did not talk of realms, much less countries or citizenship. No, a long time ago, territories ownership and control were a matter of which clan had developed the best technique, which member of said clans was raised to be their very own ultimate killing machine.

During that time, warfare did not amount to only arrows, swords, kunais or shurikens meeting their target; no, they were based on who had the most skill in chakra control, and produced the most damaging jutsu based on their blood limit.

For blood was what mattered the most. Perhaps the drive to fight, amass and control could only be explained by the blood frenzy running through their veins.

In such brutal environments, blood defined it all, one would be discarded without a second thought if deemed unworthy, clans politics and views would vary but it was a common occurrence to most that imperfections as well as shortcomings were by no means welcomed, much less tolerated. Such were new born fates, warriors’ children expectations set upon their shoulders, the prospect of life versus blood potential.

Back then, blood was indeed the only currency worth mentioning. Life and death were just what you could buy with it, or was it?

Within the incessant waves of war, hate and death, life happened, love blossomed and survival followed.

How and why, is a tale of old to explain for even the wicked were formerly gentile, the mad were heretofore sane, and the blood-stained were once capable of love.

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 _Two satellites_  
_Not alone_  
_No, we're not alone_

_\- Indestructible by Robyn-_

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 _To be continued._..


	2. Hexagram 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was accustomed to pain, their way of life demanded it of course, yet it was the first time he was rendered useless in such a way. Torn, broken, and worst, chakra deprived, meant impending death in the best case, a long and brutal torture followed by death in the worst scenario. In which one Uchiha meets Hexagram 52 and gets a ticket to memory lane.

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“Well, well, if this isn’t a little Uchiha pup we’ve got here.”  A man clad in black, a grey armor on his chest and limbs, red scarf around his neck towering above a restrained body, his latest prey, to the ground.

The man, rather the child, lying on the floor was covered in bruises, scratches and cuts of different lengths and depth, blood smeared across his body and clothes, glistening sweat covering his exposed chest and face, locks of the darkest hair stuck in permanent disarray.

Ragged breaths escaped his bloodied lips, whilst one hand was pinned to the floor just about head level with a kunai embedded deep through his palm, his other arm secured under his back in an awkward and most uncomfortable angle, which probably meant it had been dislocated if not broken, still tangled in of the wires attached to multiples tagged kunais that ensured the bloodied body remained locked in place, no escape available.

Not that the boy would even try at this point, if his difficult and raspy breathing, the apparent blood loss and overall damage done to his body were no tell-tale enough, then the markings on his chest were the ultimate give-away.

Chakra suppressor seals littered his chest, marks and script alike started from his belly button in two opposing bands, crossing each other on his back and ran up crossing each other again on his chest to finally meet at the base of his head forming a 艮 (bound) hexagram symbolizing his restraining seal, courtesy of his captors.

An additional marking, the final touch to his utter and complete defeat completed the seal, the mark imprinted on the right side of his face, right below his eye, composed by a single character meaning clear to all participants in this apprehension act, ‘cursed’.

The leader of his captors entered the containment area, feet stopping a step away from his captive vanquished form. The soil was dry, a little churned by their previous grievous battle which caused the tiny amount of movement to stir up dust and ashes together, a coughing fit was unavoidable then, the unforgiving reaction racked his battered body, speckles of blood coming out together with a renewed difficulty to maintain a basic function such as breathing in check.

Paying no mind to his newly apprehended adversary discomfort, the cell leader crouched next to the boy taking a fist of raven hair in his hand tugging at it harshly so his face met his in the most painful manner possible.

“You little Uchiha scum aren’t so conceited now, are you?” sneer evident in his tone and face, his one visible eye narrowing.

Above them a sniggering chorus could be heard, the boy’s eyes now closed in obvious pain, the position in which he was manhandled was not helping his aching body, and neither did it accommodate his burning shoulder.

He was accustomed to pain, their way of life demanded it of course, yet it was the first time he was rendered useless in such a way. Torn, broken, and worst, chakra deprived, meant impending death in the best case, a painful and long agony until he met his end if his captors were in for some sadism and fun. The group of five, all wearing black as was commonplace in their line of work, faces hidden behind white animal masks, a single insignia in the form of a swirling flame on their upper arm, tipping him of their origin. Konoha, home of their oldest and most powerful adversaries, governed by the Senju clan.

His luck had finally ran out, not that he usually had much to begin with, but what were his chances now? Thoughts started to get muddled, his brain far too occupied in trying to control the pain that now wracked every single inch of his body just as blood, slowly but surely, oozed off his limbs in increasingly steadier rivulets.

Lying on that desolated battle torn place, away from all, his only remaining thoughts circled about the circumstances that led him here in the first place.

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Their settlement was perhaps one of the most coveted in the last age, hidden deep in the mountains, lost in one of the biggest forest known to men, a shrine made of stone and woodwork of the finest craft towered it. The compound, centuries old for their clan had such a long history, was put together by each family’s house arranged to better accommodate the mountain morphology whilst keeping a certain hierarchy that was not lost to its inhabitants.

The commoners’ homes were built at the base, next to the village entrance, whilst the warriors had settled on a higher ground, both for statuses and strategy purposes. Within these, a house stood out just the tiniest bit, different not in shape or even size, it was something more subtle, the wooden doors at its entrance held intricate carvings and the stone gate was draped in deep blue fabric at the top. The overall setting exuded deference, a warranted one at that for it signaled the clan leader’s home.

Within its walls, a family of three dwelled, with a fourth member underway.

Uchiha Fugaku has been the head of the village for little over a decade, born to the previous village patriarch he had been raised to take upon the clan leadership after both his father and eldest brothers passed away all too soon. He was a man of few words, strict and proud, his deeply rooted -close to fanatic- views on his clan’s history and beliefs were only rivaled by his strive to attain power beyond his position.

It seemed conflicting at times, for he was the head of a ninja clan, but also a father and a husband, his aspirations however tended to dwell beyond these customary obligations. Power greedy would some define it if they ever dared voice it aloud, it was mostly an unspoken educated assumption within the village walls, and an ushered murmur in the shadows of the clan council at most. For no one dire incur in their well-known leader’s ill-temper.

Uchiha Mikoto, Fugaku’s wife, was grandchildren to the last shrine priestess, once assigned shrine maiden she was later promised to her now husband, for she was perhaps the fairest of all within their clan, and their leader deserved only the best if it would help his and the clan’s purposes.

As such, Mikoto had no a say in the matter, and resigned herself to her fate, for as much was expected of her even if such expectations no longer involved years of drilling her mind with the prospect of dedicating her life to their deities and passing their grace through tough acquired healing abilities.  

Uchiha Itachi, the couple’s first born, was what Fugaku had waited for as long as his aspirations ran, he also was what Mikoto thought would be her own piece of haven after a life goal was left to pursue another without her saying. When his tiny body gave its first cry, the whole village rejoiced, for a new heir was born within their bought deep in the mountain, securing their leaders bloodline, rendered purer and stronger with each passing generation.

Generation after generation of Uchihas had made it known they favored purity and equally despised the dissolution of their blood, much less favored it being exposed to outward proxies which could endanger the manifestation of the power that resided within their veins.

It came as no surprise to most when such belief got crystallized within Itachi, as he was named, and became known to all through the development of his innate abilities. Not a few years had he grown up that he activated his clan’s blood limit, blood red flowing freely in his pupils; all of which happened to Fugaku’s utter delight and Mikoto’s own mixed feelings. Such development had led to Fugaku stripping her of most her rights and interactions over the boy, he would therefore be raised as it fit the clan’s purposes and ambitions.  

However not was perfect as it seemed, for Fugaku had hidden a secret from his clan fellows, his prized boy, their rising prodigy, was sick. It was no matter of a passing condition as he first assumed upon his birth. For as weeks and months then years passed by and the strange and evidently incurable disease Itachi was prone to remained, it also became blatantly and unequivocally certain its presence was of a durable nature.

The man cursed more often than not his ill luck for even although Mikoto had managed to control and subdue Itachi’s sickness symptoms, he knew in the long run it would be his undoing.

Nevertheless it did not deter him in his dedication to his son’s education and training, Itachi proved to be even then his golden ticket to achieve a bigger name for their clan, amass war trophies, collect treasures and so much more, for with each passing day and yet another achievement attained by Itachi, Fugaku’s ambitions exponentially grew much to Mikoto’s dismay.

“Mikoto, it is high time for a spare.” He said simply one day whilst his dutiful wife was serving him tea on the wooden deck of their home. It had been a peaceful afternoon, perhaps too peaceful given the raging battles that went on outside their borders and across the world at the time.

The raven haired woman stilled her hand over the cup she was serving, the meaning behind the prompt evident to what was expected of her, before nodding her head and giving it to her husband. There was no more than duty bounding them at this point, and both adhered to their compromise with the clan’s need in mind.

Her husband’s words had not been strange, it was custom, even an ordinary matter, in clans such as theirs to produce descendants, even if only replacements to the uncontested heir. In their line of work, a leader had to take precautions, ensure that no matter what the bloodline continuity would not be endangered. Gentleness, justice or equity, much less love, had a thing to do. Mikoto thought and knew as much.

Itachi had been on an intelligence gathering mission that day, having no knowledge of what had transpired between the couple until a few months later when Mikoto’s belly began to grow and her pregnancy made itself known to all.

He had been summoned to the patriarch salon at the clan’s shrine, often used to hold clan gatherings and official meetings alike, as he sat straight back and hands properly set on his tights, eyes unwavering, he was delivered the news along the clan’s council of elders.

“Our clan has been blessed, a second descendant of our glorious house is soon-to-be.” Words spoken blankly that left no doubt to all that duty had engendered life and nothing more.

The first born and heir was not supposed to break his stance until the reunion ended, however just as his hidden sickness had not been considered in Fugaku’s plans, neither were his expectations regarding the prospect of a sibling.

“It is good father, for there is hope for our clan and virtue to be protected.” his statement was tantamount to an admission of rebelling to his father’s, his clan’s ways. Needless to say, Fugaku was not happy and he made it known to Itachi right after the gathering was adjourned.

His son did not rebel against physical punishment, his body plenty used to sustain injury and hurt, their life style pretty much demanded it and it was not long before Fugaku let it go, after all he could not risk permanent damage to his heir.

However, against all expectations, this moment planted a seed in Fugaku’s heart, one that would grow and affect his son-to-be thorough his life, the construct of his position and family, the very core of their clan. Most of all though, it would affect two souls bounded by blood.

Just seven months later that day, Sasuke came to their world. It was long and painful on Mikoto’s behalf, resulting in a bloody mess that could have very well cost her life. However the child’s birth was a silent one, no cries announced his coming out his mother’s womb, the paleness of his skin, enhanced by the tuff of black hair at the top of his head and well defined eyebrows made him resemble a porcelain doll. It worried a weakened and on the verge of passing Mikoto, heart racing she demanded the baby be given to her, terrified this time she had delivered death and not sickness that would now endanger her position. She could not risk a repeat of Itachi’s condition or worst even which could cause her to be labeled as unfit to behold her position as the clan’s head partner.

Only when she held the baby within her arms firmly against her breast did she convince herself he was breathing, it was a quiet yet steady one, no evidence of a body malfunction or such conditions. It was unsettling of course, for the small body all cleaned up as he was still looked ghostly pale and snow kissed which contrasted greatly with the bloody affair that was his birthing. However, even that was now much more comforting than the ragged breathing and speckles of blood that were present when Itachi came to life.

Reassured, she held the small frame confidently to her husband, in turn, Fugaku only managed a curt nod in acknowledgement and made his way out of the room. There was no need to grow attached to a simple replacement, second in line or not.

Right outside the birthing room, Itachi stood to attention awaiting his summon. It never happened, for silence followed his mother’s strenuous birthing labor, and all too soon his father exited the room, not at all fazed or bothered by Itachi’s quizzical face.

Guts twisting, the now oldest son chanced a glance inside the room not expecting his mother nesting a small form in her arms. Even from the distance, upon resting his eyes on his newborn kin and not caring much for the blood stains being cleaned up, Itachi felt something blossoming in his heart and his pupils then bled the deepest red.

“Itachi come.” Cooed Mikoto realizing her eldest son stood right by the door, the tone unusual to both hers and Itachi’s ears.

Sasuke had not been alive for a day, and strange happenings were already less of an unfamiliar occurrence within the main Uchiha household.

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Sasuke never quite understood his father’s cold demeanor, he had lived accustomed to it for as long as his memory permitted, perhaps even before those. Memories of harsh training, constant disapproval and contempt toward his persona defined his overall relationship with the man, together with almost complete dismissal and disregard from his role as a part of head household of the Uchiha clan.

‘Disgraceful’ and ‘not up to expectations’ were most often than not expressions by which he was commonly addressed within their home, his young mind not fully knowledgeable of the criteria he was supposed to meet but was apparently not able to live up to.

As if it had been foreseen his quiet demeanor as an infant had helped him go through the first half of his childhood being pretty much ignored by his father, however this advantage was later taken up and turned against him, when being unheeded switched to attracting unwanted attention, one which his very silence made accomplice him in his abuse. As it turned out, his lack of protest and mute acceptance toward his elders nested the perfect opening for mistreatment and cruelty.

The mistreatment started with harsh bumping as a way to keep him out the way if he ever came across Fugaku within the household. Such encounters usually ended up with a throbbing head or dirtied clothes and bruises depending on what kind of surface he landed on, a wall, the wooden floor or on worst days the garden soil littered by customary stones, sand and such. On a couple of occasions he even landed butt first in their private pound, needless to say it was not the best thing to land into in mid-winter.

Being of long time warriors blood, it had taken but a short time for little Sasuke to hone his senses and develop them enough to recognize Fugaku’s presence or his proximity, he would then distance himself or at the very least back-off out of reach.

Unfortunately this newly acquired tactic only seemed to cause Fugaku’s disgust toward him to increase which in turn caused direct summoning to become a common happening, one which he could not avoid as it was issued by his elder, parent and clan leader all at once. Such summons were usually accompanied by slapping at first, then manhandling in the most vicious ways, no prompts given, not that it would make any difference to both parts involved. Still Sasuke kept silent and developed an endurance to pain that would make some of their clan members envious if not for what had caused it to be in the first place.

It was not the only thing he learned though, for as Mikoto stick to her place by her husband’s side she also had a duty toward fellow a clan member, even if such member was deemed unworthy by their leader; alas, and not before his banishment would be stated would she fail to repair the damage brought upon him.

It was through her that the youngest son came to learn how to dress injuries, from the simplest of wounds up to broken bones directly from the best healer in the Uchiha compound, as it was a role assigned to the shrine maiden who just happened to be Mikoto’s position before she got married to Fugaku.

She may have not been allowed to express herself thorough her life and the changes made to it, but she made sure her fellow clan members, young or old, were taken care as it should, it made no difference whether said member was from her household or not, and if it was what it took to consciously oppose Fugaku without putting at risk her position she would gladly oblige.

Back to Sasuke, in their persistently rarer moments together, Itachi would sometimes marvel at his little brother healing abilities, not quite understanding where such capability came from, much less why was Sasuke seemingly so indifferent to further explain its source. Sasuke would help him dress his wounds upon his arrival, most often than not expecting him at the household private back gate, even before he reported to Fugaku. Itachi was perhaps the sole member of their inner clan circle who showed genuine concern for his young brother, as such he had asked on various opportunities how his gift came to be but Sasuke only smiled shyly and proceeded to work his way around such questions with well-practiced words, before resuming his work silent as ever.

It had been on one of these many occurrences that Itachi attempted to undue his littler brothers well-kept secret, Sasuke was dressing a nasty gash on his side, blood cleaned up and no smell lingering anywhere, the cut itself closed up by the young boy’s skillful control on healing chakra. Itachi’s question still hang on the air, having just barely stilled Sasuke’s hands over his ribs.

“You should not dwell on it brother, I am just grateful you will not arise our father’s disapproval.” Sasuke’s words spoken softly, gently, held a warning that Itachi could not evade. Their father had most likely already sensed Itachi and further postponing of his report would not be welcomed, there would be another time to probe was all that the elder kept thinking as he softly ruffled his brother’s midnight hair.

“Well thank you so much for taking care of that, little brother.” His words were meant to be equally appreciative and well-intentioned, but Itachi missed the double-meaning they exerted on Sasuke as he poked his forehead and left the boy behind in his room, the seed of doubt sprouting in his mind.

Living in constant dread, having to tip-toe against each thought, glance, movement, word even, had taught him that much and little Sasuke did not want his fate to befall on his admired brother. For Itachi was probably the only person in their cold household he felt comfortable with, his mind at ease and his body not having to strain itself to hold attention.

However, such comments spilling from Itachi’s lips always left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth, it was a strange feeling, one that left his gut twisting in the unknown, for Itachi was the rightful heir to their clan after all, and his much drilled education told him time after time he should be grateful Itachi allowed him such freedom in his presence. Perhaps his older brother indulged him because he served him well, never complained and basked in complete acceptance whilst in Itachi’s company.

He was but only a spare, a mere replacement, both Fugaku’s and Itachi’s backup plan should anything go awry and against the Uchiha clan wishes. There was no doubt in his mind that this plan was a reality he would not escape, he did not know any better either, much less thought better of it.

A tool, a fix did not need a mind of its own, expectations or dreams.

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Back at his current predicament, such experiences and abilities made it possible for Sasuke’s mind to conjure the likelihood that he was not destined to die here, laying in a poodle of his own blood, rendered powerless and without escape in view.

Well, that was as long as their plan would go, mused a frankly worn out Sasuke, he would probably have attempted a full smirk if he could have conjured it without wincing in pain.

However, quirking up his lips has not been the best thing to do at the time, his expression filled with irony at his own remembrance-trip taken badly by his captors.

“Stupid Uchiha mongrel aren’t you having the time of your life, are you now?” the leader of his captors hissed, boot sucker-punching the side of his head and sending it flying to the side, skull ringing.  He would have to add skull fracture to his long list of injuries, perhaps death would stop eluding him at last. If only luck would once and for all side by him.

Tough one, it was not meant to happen. Not a moment later, the leader of the group was accosted by two of his men, whispers were exchanged, most likely consisting of news ways to cause pain or deciding on a jutsu to cast upon his unproteced body. The last thing his mind could conjure as darkness invaded his consciousness by each passing second was the soft kiss on his forehead Itachi had given him the night before.

It had been meant as a blessing after being given this disastrous mission in his stead.

“Sorry for having to fill in for me, little brother.”

Or, was it?

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_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you must have noticed the canon divergence by the end of this introductory chapter, it is as blatant as intentional. This story setting is pretty much akin to the ninja Universe in NARUTO which includes chakra usage, jutsu, clans and their blood limit; however, I’m sort of taking it back at a time close to the way things were around Konoha’s inception.
> 
> This will be further explained in later chapters but I will say that whilst the Senju have indeed thought on creating an idealized ninja village and finally settled in village hidden in the forest (Konoha), the Uchiha are still pretty much their most powerful adversaries, as such the world out there is still plagued by warfare that goes from petty skirmish to large scale full blown war. Anyway, this is pretty much a lame excuse to attempt yet another Itachi and Sasuke (note I am not claiming it to be ItaSasu yet) story, it is a dark cold world for them and things are not going to be pretty.
> 
> Also, Hexagram 52 is named 艮 (gèn), "Bound". Other variations include "keeping still, mountain" and "stilling". Both its inner and outer trigrams are ☶ (艮 gèn) bound = (山) mountain (courtesy of Wikipedia, because heck, why not?).


	3. Hexagram 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was accustomed to solo missions, high-profile assassination ones were a rarity to him but not unheard of. The head of the clan would rather let his trusted ones to them carry out, but he had been switched with Itachi. No signature kill, bloody mess was on order, and he carried it out to the letter, after all it would not do to give it much thought. In which one Uchiha reflects on the meaning of Hexagram 37.

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As his hands worked his weapons, Itachi’s words came back at the forefront of his mind.

“Sorry for filling in for me, little brother.” Sasuke had given him his custom resigned look, his shoulder minutely moving in a shrugging way, it had been a sloppy action on his youngest kin part but Itachi thought nothing of it.

Before the change in assignment, this mission had been his. It was not supposed to be a difficult mission per se, at least not as far as they could tell. Assassination was perhaps not something either of them had in mind when their clansmen spoke of honor and might, but in their world it helped their clan’s wealth more than their words did, which in turn ensured their people had their needs met at any given time. That was enough to act on duty alone.

Like him, Sasuke had dealt death before, returned home with blood stained hands, no tears nor hassle about it.

The strangeness of it all was that whilst Fugaku thought Sasuke to be of lesser worth, or none at all depending the circumstances in which he referred to his youngest, he had still made him take Itachi’s place in a high-profile assassination mission.

That thought alone had been nagging at Itachi’s mind for a few hours now. Since he was who he was, Fugaku had spared not a detail about the reason when he had instructed Sasuke on the mission details and target.

Seated on the council room before Fugaku, the youngest children had been tempted to ask but thought better of it since it would do him no good, and most likely get him a nasty deal afterwards. Plus, it was not the first time such a thing occurred, Sasuke had filled in for other clan members before and was never spared an explanation for either of those. Attained resignation made more sense to him and allowed concentration on what was expected of him.

Focused as he was on reining his tongue, he missed Itachi’s fingers twitching when the announcement had been made, it had been a surprise to him but he too could not confront, much less question, the clan leader on such a decision. He would attempt it later, when no council eyes or Sasuke’s ears were close by.

Unbeknownst to him, Itachi had attempted it of course, yet Fugaku had not budged a bit. Itachi had dropped the subject as soon as his brother’s worth had been questioned in an iced manner. Itachi was no fool, he could detect a warning when it was issued, he was heir to the Uchiha but that was it.

An hour later, Sasuke had been all geared up and ready to leave in the dead of the night. Itachi had been there, in one of the rare occasion he could bid his farewell to his younger brother. Which made it more of an unusual moment when Itachi’s words, spoken as an apology registered to the youngest ears.

What was there to be sorry for in the first place? Yet, he had reveled in the rare moment, content to have Itachi just for himself.

However, for as much he berated himself, his mind had refused to let the matter rest. It first settled for a simple account, Itachi might have still been on his way to recovery after his latest mission injury. On second thought, this had not stopped Fugaku from sending his heir on a mission before, even if the risks were low enough to allow it.

Although he had not heard what transpired between them, Sasuke had noticed Itachi heading towards their father after the clan’s meeting. He could sense Fugaku’s chakra peaking a little bit afterwards, whilst Itachi’s flickered briefly.

Sasuke was now on his way to the place arranged for his target dismissal when his mind had convinced himself that the whole ordeal had to do with the mission itself. This was either not worthy of Itachi’s skill or, the other way around. Fugaku definitely did not hold him dear, but he was plenty aware of Sasuke’s own set of skills, even if he did not knew all of their extent.

On his third attempt to unveil Fugaku’s reasoning, Sasuke once again bereted himself and finally gave up. He was moments away from slicing a guy’s throat, a clear mind was on order.

Needless to say, he did not quite succeed. A quiet personality meant his inner dialogue was well developed, his mind the sole source of solace in which his thoughts were given free-rein, unafraid of receiving judgment, or worst even, punishment. Even so, mellow and inconsequent were two sides of a coin he would rather avoid tossing carelessly.

He had tried to do the same for years when it came to his relationship, or therefore lack of, between him and his parent, to no avail. He decided then to just stick to his mission, fulfill it to the best of his abilities and go back to the one place he was supposed to come around each and every single time.

Perhaps Itachi would still be there, he could even be awaiting him at the back gate, just as he had done himself for his brother countless of times before.

Unfortunately, as Sasuke laid in wait for his target, other shinobi with a mission of their own did likely wise, their eyes searching among the passing people, hidden by the ever growing shadows of the dying sun.

The leader of the three men cell formed a whistle like gesture on his lips, no sound came out of them and yet, a couple of dogs stood to attention not two feet away. The man clothed in black and grey turned around, face hidden behind a white mask, a cloth with small speckles of blood in his hand.

Having sniffled it and registered the smell, the dogs turned around mouths salivating, and trotted seemingly aimlessly to the street below. Their target would be on the move soon, they could not afford losing him.

_._

Sasuke’s mind was finally at ease, this assignment had been simpler than expected, way below Itachi’s skills. Unsettling as the remark had been, he was content with the thought and indulged himself in a simple smile that did not quite reach his eyes by a mile as they caught the blood on his hands and forearm.

Perhaps the fierce slashing had been a bit of an overdo he caught himself thinking, thoroughly displeased by the red stains on his features. His signature kill was usually much cleaner and precise, alas his mission had stated it so. He had to fulfill each requirement to ensure the clan retribution was met without a fuss.

His back tingled some at the remembrance of what happened if one failed to meet the contract specifications, he had seen it happen once before, he had also shared the punishment for it before the entire council. Itachi had only seen the first part of that one, and has been quite baffled when he had been denied seeing Sasuke for almost a week.

The raven had been quite out of it at the time, and knew nothing of it, he only remembered Mikoto treating his injuries once he had been carried back to the household by his cousin Shisui.

The memory diluted itself whilst he surveyed his work and concluded that whoever had paid for it surely had it for the dramatic. On another occasion, it would not have been an important matter, if not for the simple fact that this imposed situation posed the issue of washing up all traces that lingered on his body. Unfortunately, he would not be able to do so before he returned to his change of clothes hidden spot.

Upset by the prospect, Sasuke momentarily closed his eyes, hands busy with cleaning his blade before sheathing it once more. Bloody clothes or skin he could handle, but his sword had to be clean at all times when sheathed. The later had most likely been one of his first lessons in weapon handling.

The rusted-out-stained short sword Fugaku had given him one day and forced him to battle with had made sure the lesson would never leave his mind’s forefront. A mishandled sword, meant a broken sword, which in turn meant your life threading on nothing else but pure luck afterwards in a real engagement situation. Luck was ill business, one it was better not to deal with, much less depend onto.

A crow cackling not far away forced his head up, snapping him out of his thoughts, dawn was closer now and he still had to get out of there unseen. Taking a quick glance out, he jumped out the crime scene window and landed on the nearest roof, bloody mess left behind to whoever would be the unfortunate soul to come across it when the sun finally came out.

Focused as he was on making a swift exit of the city unseen, Sasuke failed to pick up on the one eye that caught him up and followed him with no rest from a distance. The owner of said eye, motioned his subordinates to follow up, the chase was on.

With a silent motion of his masked face, his fellows fell in his step, still hidden by the now thinning shadows.

For the time being they would just fall back to a distance enough to guarantee they would not be sensed. If their intel was accurate enough, it would do them better to deal with their prey with little to no collateral damage or risk his escape during a confusing battle ground involving civilians.

Not that it mattered to them, for even if they lost sight of the assassin, their leader’s dogs would be able to deliver his location. The blood on him would ensure it, just as Shimura Danzou had planned.

“Follow the blood trail. The order is to capture.” The words had been strange to hear from Danzou's lips, their usual missions ranged from kill to obliteration. If his subordinates were surprised they had been fortunately been spared the task to hid it for their masks covered even their urge to question, in turn their cell leader had only requested the engagement settings they were allowed.

“All out but alive, and whole.” Had been the straight reply, emphasis clear, no permanent damage was to be issued. Instantly, the rush of battle had been back in their veins, excited smirks hidden from view.

There was much to look forward to.

It had been a while since they had last tasted untainted Uchiha blood.

_._

_._

_._

It had been two full days since Sasuke had departed on his mission. Itachi started to become restless, he had been due to return the night before, and that was in the worst case scenario. This was new, uncomfortably so, but he had slept the night in either way.

However, as morning came by, the youngest son of Fugaku had yet to show up. Unsettling did not even start to cover this discovery.

As he closed the shoji door to Sasuke’s room, Itachi decided it would do no good to bring the issue up to their father yet. Best give Sasuke a few hours still, he convincingly told himself as he turned from the door and his feet took him toward the garden.

Thoughts of Sasuke kept his mind reeling, a dangerous game to play when so many factors could have caused his delay. The youngster might have been looked down by one too many clan members, courtesy of his father’s indifference and unwillingness to correct such unfair occurrences, nevertheless Itachi trusted Sasuke’s skills. Perhaps, conjured his mind, he was just brooding after being given such assignment out of the blue, or better yet enjoying some time away from their father. It would be a first, but his younger brother was a kid no more he realized on afterthought.

His quiet kid brother was no longer an infant but a strong shinobi who’s only ill luck had been to be born second. Itachi surely enough knew what that simple situation entailed, he had been raised the heir to the Uchiha after all.

He would have to find the right time to counsel his brother, it was a dangerous game indeed to incur on their father’s wrath, but Itachi inwardly understood Sasuke needed it, he might had encouraged it at some point even, if only there was not so much at stake. These were perilous times to wander alone, unsupervised or worst with no tangible back-up, inside and outside the compound.

A gut feeling settled at the bottom of his stomach, the resignation on Sasuke’s face once again flashing through his inner eye. His dark eyes surrounded by black lashes, a face made of porcelain skin he knew was soft to the hand and yet more often than not colder than was expected. Sasuke’s hair had slowly grown over the years, not as long as Itachi’s but it framed his face and did the job when Sasuke decided to shield his thoughts and swipe-off any emotion from his face in a single motion. Itachi had convinced himself Sasuke did so without really meaning too, albeit the stern look on their father’s face would often trigger it.

A couple of crows cackled beyond the garden and up in the forest trees, the sound soon followed by raging dogs barking, they continued doing so until the crows cackle died into the distance. Unsettled by the dogs’ harassment, they had flown away to a quieter spot in the woods.

“Itachi, what are you doing?” asked his mother from the wooden deck of the house.

Mikoto was surprised that Itachi would be out in the garden seemingly unoccupied, however having caught his attention she gestured softly for him to join her on the wooden deck outside her tea room. Leaving the garden, the crows and his troubled thoughts behind, Itachi complied.

Some moments later, found them seating quietly facing the garden pond, Mikoto had prepared tea and was serving both their cups with a mastery that denoted her privileged upbringing. Once done, she offered Itachi his cup and brought up hers to her lips for a sip. Then, she looked at her son and silently awaited.

Out of her two sons, Sasuke had been the most brooding, his very birth albeit a bloody affair, had been silent -too silent- she reminded herself with an inner shiver. It might as well have been the death of her.

True as it was, the clan strict upbringing did not leave much room for games, laughs and freedom of expression. As the clan’s head wife she had endured seeing her very owns sons injured, bloody, each mission concluded robbing them of yet another ounce of innocence, she was used to it, toughened up by their way of life.

However Itachi’s silence and thoughtful manner this day had made unfamiliar concern sprout from her chest.

Finally, a sigh escaped Itachi’s lips, his back straightened as he let the cup rest on the carved table between them, his eyes on her, unwavering.

“Mother, have you not noticed Sasuke has yet to return?” the question was left hanging in the room.

Mikoto suddenly very much aware of the quietness of the household. Fugaku had not mentioned much less summoned her youngest. Sasuke had not approached her for guidance, or worst, some type of healing technique to ease yet another injury he did not even bother to explain anymore.

The clan leader’s wife and former shrine maiden also repaired on the fact she had not known Sasuke was to partake on a mission these days. For it was the only explanation to his missing status. As Itachi respectfully bowed, thanking her for the tea, and finally left, Mikoto was trapped within a single looping thought.

How come had she not noticed before?

The concern for her oldest son demeanor, suddenly became an unfamiliar unsettling ache in her chest. Fugaku had not tell a word to her about it, but he did hold a clan meeting to which she had not participated. Only his inner circle had been summoned and an outsider had partaken it.

There was so much blood and quietness the day Sasuke was born, yet it no longer seemed to rival with her current thoughts.

_._

_._

_._

Hours later found Itachi revising parchment after parchment, he had given up upon solo training. He had just not been able to feel his sword, much less focus his mind to the task at hand. At the moment though, he had stopped his eyes on a specific character, Hexagram 37 家人 (jiā rén) was a rarely used symbol anymore and he caught himself thinking back at what had transpired earlier.

The short exchange with Mikoto had done little to ease his mind, her unspoken surprise to her son’s disappearance had fueled his apprehension. At some point though, lunch got them reunited, or should have really.

However, Sasuke was still nowhere to be, his mother made no comment on it, diligently serving the other three plates. Fugaku sat at the head as expected, no spending a glance toward his son’s empty spot. He did not look put apart, actually thought Itachi he did not even look annoyed by the absence of his second.

No longer able to restrain himself, he slowly put down his rice bowl on the low table before directing his eyes to the clan’s head, ready to word his concern.

“Don’t bother Itachi.” Came the unexpected interruption, Fugaku still had his fish caught in between his chopsticks, he did not even bother raising his eyes to confront Itachi.

“As member of this clan he has to uphold the Uchiha name on his own, sacrifice if need be, do not occupy your mind over it instead of focusing with what is at hand.” The tone had been offhanded, the fish placed in his mouth on cue with the last word that had left his lips. If it had been a conversation, he had started and ended it.

Suddenly it had become quite clear to Itachi that his father had known all along, he was no clan leader for nothing, yet it did not ease his conscience a bit. Was he not concerned at all? With just a single sentence, he had dictated what was expected of Sasuke, basically he was out there on his own. Make-or-break, Fugaku could not have spelled it any better.

Not too long afterward, lunch had been cleared, Fugaku was no fool he had paid attention to his eldest offspring thorough the whole ordeal. After all these years, he still had to succeed into breaking the brothers bound, Itachi just stubbornly regarded him as kin and not a tool to be used as it best fit the clan and Itachi himself.

When Fugaku was born, he had been the third of three brothers. Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Izuna had been sired a decade before he came to be, his birth had been a loud yet brief event. Their father had not spared him any regard to his age, training him until he reached the top of his abilities. Ten years younger and he could rival his elders all the same, until he taught himself to look at them as their equals, for a while at least... Make it or break it, he had learned that lesson well.

From his spot at the head of their sitting accommodations, Fugaku had a perfect view of both Itachi and Mikoto, the latest was silently brooding tea, the customary drink after their lunch, whilst his first born kept his eyes on the empty cups soon to be filled.

“As a fellow Uchiha, father, I request permission to go look for our missing shinobi. This delay is unacceptable and our location could very well be compromised.”

This time, Itachi’s request used Fugaku’s own words, he could have denied his permission, but the prospect of getting back at Itachi was too tempting. Mikoto had looked quite stricken as well, the tea brooding left unattended for a moment.

“Very well. Bring him and be dealt with, less you will not rise another word about the matter.”

was the only permission he would allow.

_._

“Remind me why I ended up into your deal, cousin?” the question had been whispered right beside his ear by none other than Uchiha Shisui, his permanent mission partner.

As much as it had displeased his father, Shisui still was the best shinobi to entrust his first born safety, furthermore whilst he had not been able to wipe his brother’s offspring of the face of the earth when he had arisen as the Uchiha clan leader, Fugaku knew by doing so he would have caused a huge blow to his control over the clan and particularly a few of the council members. By keeping Shisui close, he ensured everybody’s loyalty, included his brother’s kid. Such were the reasoning behind having Itachi sent away on his so-called security mission on behalf of the Uchiha village along his nephew.

Hidden in the trees, perched on a particularly thick branch, both shinobi surveyed a clearing they had come to. The sight had them standing still for a while now, focusing their senses in the look-out for chakra signatures, the ground below was the result of a battle, a fierce and long one by the looks of the state the land had been left in.

That fact alone would have not cause both Uchiha to stop, however the charred ground, split and broken trees had. Fire and lightning techniques usage no doubt, both thought. Albeit the field had been cleaned of any weapons used, such as kunais or shuriken, the damage inflicted upon nature could not be cleansed, neither could the blood spotting which seemed to converge on a rather large stain in the middle of odd colored markings surrounded by ashen earth.

No chakra detected, both shinobi finally dropped to the ground, sharingan flaring in their eyes immediately attracted by the markings on the ground. Whilst Shisui kept minding their surroundings, Itachi bent down on his heels to have a closer look. The earth was warm, black and grey, the fire had long died out leaving coal dust and ashes, but its intensity had been a sure thing, at any other given moment he would have taken the time to appreciate the technique.

Now, however, the markings before his eyes troubled him greatly, he could just not come to terms with what his mind was telling him.

“Things have been set into motion, cousin.” Shisui’s hand had found his shoulder, the squeeze almost imperceptible. Itachi absentmindedly nodded. The truth too harsh to be spoken aloud.

They spent some more time recording the seal marked on the ground, it was a blood seal and a powerful one at that. Silence stretched between them, Shisui wondered just a well-thought feet away, not prone to leave his cousin unprotected while he collected his thoughts.

After a moment longer, Itachi’s finally had enough of a reconstruction on the event to share it with Shisui. He had a bitter tone lacing his words, Fugaku might not have been interested in Sasuke and which set of skills he had developed beside the ones their fathers had set, but Itachi had known better. Sasuke was a highly skilled sealing techniques user, if he had come across his match he would have backed off to heal himself instead of keep on fighting when at disadvantage.

There was no doubt in his mind, the task had been accomplished by highly trained shinobis that had been able to match him, and worst overpower him with their sheer number. Konoha, it had to be them.

Given the case, it also left no doubt that not even Sasuke would have thought of backing up from them. It was contradictory, but Fugaku would have had his head over it, Shisui provided. Albeit Itachi rebuked Fugaku’s methods, spared or not, running away would have meant a different kind of pain for Sasuke, perhaps even death. Disgrace was not a topic to be taken lightly in their clan.

Teeth greeting as his fists gripped his pants, eyes flashing an angry red, Fugaku had to have known -he had to-, he had been against Itachi dealing with Sasuke whatsoever for years. A child’s life was a cheap price to achieve his goals. Two birds with one stone, he had done so before, Shisui was the living proof.

Shisui was back at his side in the blink of an eye, taking his cousin’s face in his hands.

“Beware Itachi, less it sound like an accusation against the head.” Both Uchiha had been well versed in what happened to those who dared mention Madara and Izuna’s names as examples of what happened when kin get too close to each other and forgot there was a clan depending of them.

The concept of family suddenly seemed foreign to Itachi, Hexagram 37 losing its significance. Had he been wrong all along?

.

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_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hexagram 37 is named 家人 (jiā rén), "Dwelling People". Other variations include "the family (the clan)" and "family members". Its inner trigram is ☲ (離 lí) radiance = (火) fire, and its outer trigram is ☴ (巽 xùn) ground = (風) wind.
> 
> I mentioned before this was going to be a slow updates deal, but I never meant it to be "this" kind of slow, I apologize if that really bothered someone, I will just try to do my best with the following chapters. Also, this story does not have a beta, and I know there are mostly time fixes to be dealt with...if you encounter any, please let me know, in all honestly my eyes are killing me.


	4. Hexagram 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life had an unreliable way to swipe things from under own’s feet, or demand others be left in sight and still unreachable. Most of times the aforementioned did little to deter a few from their life goal, albeit it had not been the one originally intended. In which one Uchiha gets acquainted with the meaning of Hexagram 53 and puts it into practice.

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_._

Shisui had mentioned it some time ago. They had been on an intel gathering mission at the time, sent to mingle in the midst of one of the many villages beyond the bounds of Konoha, and quite similarly off the reach of the Uchiha compound.

They currently were in the middle of autumn, fiery leaves alight under the Sun were crunching under their feet. It helped them mix all the better without having to put extra thought into making their steps loud enough to be normal steps and not stealth trained ones.

Perhaps, it has not been the greatest idea to visit a tea house whilst following one the willing –albeit unconscious willingness it was- sources, what surely had been worst was following him into the hot spring and partake on some sake drinking.

The combined heat and alcohol had proved enough to forfeit the use of their sharingan and have the man babbling about his life and his work station, which both Uchiha had been there to gather details on.

It had also proved to be a deadly combination to their own composed mindset and strict way of life, which is why they not sooner than later found themselves back in their room after the ordeal had been enough to finally put an end to their mission and drop the act.

Perhaps, the warm colors of the leaves, gently lured from one spot to the next by the wind, had nothing to envy of Shisui’s and Itachi’s rosier tones on their cheeks.

It might not even have had to do with Shisui’s sitting more closely than was normal, almost intimately would have Itachi called it if he had been in his right mind.

But Shisui had known right then, it had everything to do with Itachi gently but firmly pushing his hand from his tight, telling him in a slightly drawled tone they should stop and let it rest.

“It is not unheard of, you know it.” Shisui had foolishly persisted, mind a little too hazy to catch the drift of his cousin, the next heir.

How the roles had reversed, it had been a while since he had last given it a thought. It did no good to dwell on the past, one could lose himself there and pretend something that was no more.

Itachi had not given any indication that he agreed or disagreed, so Shisui had known he wouldn’t be put out. It had to be something else.

His eyes drifted toward the opened floor-to-ceiling sliding door, unplanned nostalgia taking over, eyes glazed, unseeing, he had just opened his mouth and thoughts, opinions, goals he had set for himself after his life had been turn up-and-down by the father of the man still sitting next to him had left it, left hanging, bare and unable to be taken back.

Nowadays it was a story which people in the Uchiha compound kept to themselves, Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Izuna’s story.

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Madara had been the first born and rightful heir to the Uchiha, over the years he had developed an uncanny sense of warfare, leading the clan on countless battles and a great deal of victories thorough the years.

On the other hand, his way to deal with the running of the village had been light, the man had no real time to sit down and ponder about people basic needs, he just needed fit men to follow him to new battle fields, slice their enemies down, get the glory and collect the bounty that came with it.

It had worked just fine for his fellow, for as long as he was heir. There had been a leader to see to everything else.

Izuna had been the second born and as such took upon the role of the spare. He followed his brother as the shadow of his shadow, never at the forefront but just about there, lingering in the dark, eyes on his back, hands stained red for a whole set of different reasons.

It was not glory that would impulse his blade as he befell yet another of his brother’s enemies but duty -at first- then something else entirely.

And that had worked just fine for their father and the clan’s council for a while. It had kept them satisfied even after Madara took the clan head seat, if only for a while more.

The birth of yet another son, a decade apart from his elders, had come both as a surprise to some, and a relief to a few others. Izuna had particularly benefited by the unexpected turn of the tide, as he was taken from his position, freed from the burden that ultimately befell the new addition to the family. He blossomed into a new man, and Madara noticed.

Out of the two, the youngest had a penchant for organizational duty, his quiet, down to earth demeanor gave him the time and space required to actually think and plan the clan’s needs, and keep their social structure functioning.

Whilst these qualities had been greatly appreciated after Fugaku’s birth, they had required much convincing to be allowed when he still acted the spare.

Whispers in the dark had often accompanied him at the time, he had always supported his brother from the shadows. Taking the later into account, he had not been above ensuring all of him, be it mind or body, to help this purpose further.

At the time, it had just been seen fit, even if it was usually followed by Madara thundering toward a new battle field. Nobody quite picked up on the fact, and if their father or the council did, it had not bothered them. As long as the Uchiha’s supremacy was preserved, should it really matter if they actively shared a bed?

And Madara would come back covered in blood, sadistic grin plastered on his face, bloodlust satiated, for a while.  Izuna would, more often than not, had been awaiting his return only to take his weapons from him and lead him inside their family home.

Hidden from the public eye, engulfed by the shadows of the walls, Izuna would perform just another duty to him. Madara would not oppose, but his mind would not stop reeling afterward.

But Fugaku’s birth had suddenly changed all of the aforementioned.

No longer was Izuna required to fulfill his fellow clan members’ expectations nor demands. Both men had another one to meet, breed heirs. Brides had then been selected, and a couple of years later the next line of progenies were born.

By the time Fugaku made sense to the role that had been bestowed to him, Madara and Izuna’s wives had unexpectedly withered away. Both brothers now ruled the clan. Their father turned blind, deemed unworthy to lead the clan to which its power resided in their ocular proficiency.

Whispers still accompanied Izuna in the shadows, but they were a single man’s now, his own flesh and blood. If he was alright with the arrangement nobody quite knew, Izuna had always been a man of duty.

However, as Madara’s escalating violence grew, so did his ever growing sharingan prowess, unrivaled he stood at the peak of the clan. Shortly afterwards, another kind of whispering started within the Uchihas walls. Lust had led to love, love was spiraling toward madness.

Dissatisfaction was then no longer a matter of housing or food management, and it kept brewing, spanning over a few years, until Fugaku’s name became worthy of mention.

Blasphemy would some refer to it, clenching tight on a sinking ship. The relative peaceful atmosphere that reined in a village whose inhabitants were bred for war started to fracture.

War had been raging for ages, all too soon, as they kept losing ground, it was now knocking on the Uchiha’s doors.

Izuna, having delt with shadow games for a major part of his life, had sensed something was amiss within their kin. He had taken upon himself to try and settle their kin restlessness.

As Madara’s victories were becoming a sparse source of ever fainting rejoice, it had not helped he seemed to care less and less for the bounty, which began to make itself scarce, and more for his unquenched bloodlust.

Whispers now labelled him as reckless, unfit, unworthy.

Love had made him weak, love had made him mad.

And it all begun with small details. Where once people would have not spared Fugaku a glance, they now stopped at once to let him pass or even stepped aside. Respect had grown for him, swiped off from his elders.

As for Izuna, whereas before they would have looked longingly, lustfully even, their chakra signature would now spike in repulse.

Something, someone was tormenting his days and nights alike. He became restless as whispers hidden in the dark no longer were enough to bond him to the clan.

These were perhaps the most convoluted times known to the clan, yet only a small amont of them seemed to realize it.

There was a new power rising in their bosom, and he wanted more, he needed more, but the Uchiha prevented it.

“Izuna, is it true?” the question had fell from their younger brother’s lips one day. Izuna had been left alone to take care of the village whilst Madara was, yet again, campaigning against the Senju.

The tone had been deep, deeper that he associated with his youngest relative. It had been cold too, disgust barely contained but still slipping.

The setting had been perfect, sun dying past the great trees surrounding the compound, casting shadows Izuna had become less and less accustomed to as years went on. It was Fugaku who now resided in them. He used them to his whim and every need even if Izuna had not taken not of its full scope.

Izuna had not been intimidated by his youngest brother’s chakra flaring angrily, it always did nowadays whilst in range with his elders. He also understood Fugaku on some level, he knew first-hand what the fate of a spare was.

Nonetheless, he had done nothing to lessen its burden. He had seen their father do terrible things, heard him do unspeakable others, all to forge a new spare, a worthy one. Albeit, it was perhaps safe to say he had not foreseen he would eventually rise a dangerous one at that.

He had not deemed it important to answer, it had been obvious that Fugaku knew.

“Is it true, you two _fuck_?” words were laced with venom, resentment, and hatred. Just as their father’s, Izuna had failed to correctly assess Fugaku, the whole of him. Realization had hit him too late.

Shock overrode his mind, no emotion, no judgment passed.

Albeit ten years his senior, Izuna could not reconciliate the fact that the kid, barely a man, before him had been able to overpower him. And it had been as if a door so heavily locked it was donned   impossible to open, had done just that, and the wrath long held had overflown. No warning given, no respite, no mercy.

Fugaku had then used him, torn him and maimed him.

Izuna lost his eyes. No explanation was given, none was required. Still, against all expectations, fingers did not point towards Fugaku but to Madara instead.

For he had come back defeated, the blood of his fellows lingering on his clothes and his skin.

The elder of the three had not even tried to rationalize it.

He had stared and stared, but Izuna could no longer return his gaze. Whispers in the dark did no longer sustain them, it was Fugaku’s time.

All that remained afterward had been two kids, too weak to properly retain what was theirs, too young to actually remember, much less develop a sense of loss towards what had been rightfully theirs.

.

“It is not unheard of indeed…” had scoffed Shisui, moonlight shining upon their faces in the room they shared for the night.

Soon after, chakras flared, albeit not in a threatening way, which Itachi had inwardly been grateful for.

And all too soon, it became a dance of limbs then, skin on skin, lips ravishing, muscles rippling, tensing in the throes of pleasure.

The heir to the Uchiha had let his cousin deliver the blunt of his lust, passion overriding their positions. He would allow it, if only as solace to Shisui’s losses.

He could not disapprove his father’s ways openly without risking another, but he could do better, ensure Shisui’s loyalty. Reinforce and bind it to him, until it became of use.

He would do that and more, to ensure Sasuke was kept within the safety of his arms reach.  

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.

As Itachi bowed deep before his father, forehead a mere centimeters from touching the warm wood of the floor, his mind was still reeling trying to pinpoint the connections to all events leading to this moment.

Shisui, who took position right behind him on his right, had made it clear enough. Strings were being pulled, but they were lacking proof, beside the actual battle site and information they built from it, there was no actual evidence that Sasuke still remained alive and breathing.

However the question remained. For what purpose would his body serve?

Perhaps it had been a mistake on his part, some miscalculation he could not possibly foresee. Or it had just be Fugaku finally letting himself be known, unhindered, unmasked.

However, as he wrapped up his report, Shisui tensing at his chosen words but silent nonetheless, he could not help himself and allowed his eyes to anchor onto his father’s.

Fugaku was not a man to leave promises unfulfilled. He also was a man who made sure his words did not lack the proper back-up. In other words, he was clan leader before a family head.

Therefore, enforcing his power had never ever been an issue when someone within their kin failed to meet their end of the bargain.

It had seldom applied to his heir, and when it had Itachi had been younger, much younger and not a fully-fledged shinobi yet, and so whichever action was in order he had made sure to deal it within their home’s walls.

Even so, it had been nothing compared to what he usually reserved for his youngest. Whether Sasuke was at fault or not mattered little.

However, this day had been different. Itachi had made it back with Shisui, the everlasting reminder of his elders’, and as expected with no Sasuke in sight.

Albeit it had brought a satisfying smug face, he had now a punishment to deal with. It had to be a well-thought planned one, for there was Itachi’s condition to take into account, but it was also the opportunity he had waited for some time.

The occasion was reap, with the runt out of the way, secrets hidden right on sight and yet so far out of Itachi’s hands.

He had been right to allow this slithering snake into their midst. Orochimaru had promised, then delivered.

He was a step closer to Konoha, to the Senju and the mad mind in their midst.

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The morning following their night of unrestrained binding, Shisui realized his cousin held feelings no deeper than he would allow in circumstances physical release was required. His blood bond meant he cared more than he would a partner in a pleasure district, where money was involved but it went no deeper than that.

Itachi would not recall another time Shisui had been so deep in thought in the morning. He waited for Shisui to break the silence, and was rewarded with a soft grateful smile when his cousin finally decided to do so.

“Foolish would be a fitting nickname, but I realize it already has an owner.” His smile did not falter, his voice carried no regret even if just an ounce of silly jealousy.

He had then upheld his hand before Itachi could even as much as rebuke the truth laid upon his eyes. He obliged, for it would had been insensitive to try and so. Moments later he was glad he had restrained from doing so.

Shisui had often babbled about their clan’s customs and traditions, their hierarchy and structure functionality. He had seldom talked about the head house, for it had been a painful reminder no doubt, yet over the time they had spent together he had still shared some insight of it with Itachi.

Itachi and Sasuke were, for as the clan’s ways went, heir and spare. To put it bluntly, as per Shisui’s words once, they had not been expected to be overly kind toward each other.

It was more a class deal, the heir was above all the next in line, whilst the next offspring was deemed of less value, a stepping stone for the heir to develop his potential. One monopolized rights, the other received duties.

Albeit Itachi had known his position was different from Sasuke’s, he did not have to comply with it.

Those were his thoughts, and he had made them clear to his cousin. Each and every one of them.

The Uchiha, were all individuals, they could not be expected to act emotionless and serve one person’s desires.

His words had been deep for someone his age, Shisui mused. However, as much truth they held, it did not make them any less dangerous.

Shisui knew all too well within their walls when something was deemed a danger to the clan. It was an ushered murmur at most, a foolish thought to entertain mostly. But those among them who remembered the fate that befell the village at the time of Fugaku’s appointment as new clan head had not been entirely forgotten.

Many thought that one too many coincidences had happened, albeit they kept quiet afraid to voice it aloud, much less to point a finger in their sworn leader’s direction.

In the light of such developments, Shisui had advised a while ago to keep in mind Sasuke’s position as well.

Having a few years in-between their births had given Itachi the time to reflect on it, whilst Sasuke had been raised as a lesser worth being from scratch. He knew nothing else outside of it, could not be expected to.

The Uchiha heir had taken the advice, albeit he resented it as it greatly conflicted with his most treasured, still not fully formed, beliefs. Still, he had agreed to it, for Sasuke’s sake.

He would turn a blind eye most often than not, he would avoid meddling in their house’s ways, he would keep Sasuke at arm’s length. If it meant protecting him in the long run, he would do it.

Motto in mind, what started as a forced habit, became second nature.

By the time Sasuke had been given his first sword lesson, they had already drifted apart in the way it was expected of them.

Still, Itachi would often indulge himself, and Sasuke, in some basic sense of brothers’ relationship.

Sometimes he would thread a little further, such times usually ended in confusing, cryptic moments on Sasuke’s end. The latest having been his apology the last time they had spoken.

_“Sorry for filling in for me, little brother.”_ His own words echoed in his mind as he recalled their parting. Sasuke skin had felt warm on his lips, he had longed for more, velvety lip skin instead of the smooth surface of his forehead. But he had not been able to, not when eyes as dark as his glanced back with a light akin to a lone candle in the darkest of woods, one that would unleash a fire unheard of, wild and free.

But Itachi no longer dwelled on it, he had gone to such lengths to spare him his feelings that unbeknownst to him dark thoughts had rooted themselves deep into Sasuke’s heart. Ones that nobody knew about, Itachi less of them since he was the cause and receptor to many of them.

“You must measure yourself, spare him your feelings cousin.” If Itachi loved him, Sasuke had to grow strong on his own.

Shisui’s eyes had had a strange glint in them at the time, he knew all too well that his cousin felt strongly toward his youngest brother even if he perhaps did not realize its potential, much less its extent. 

It made him sad for more reasons he could not spare, not even with Itachi. For Shisui had uncovered many one too many hidden truths within their clan over the years.

Bypassing Fugaku’s barriers had been hard, evolving from a threat to his seat and becoming a member with the right amount of freedom to mobilize without rising suspicion or ill intent toward himself had been tougher.  

Nevertheless, just as the one 漸 (jiàn) hexagram branded deep into his mind by a long thought lost link in their story. Infiltrating had been the key by which they could attain their goal.

It did not really matter if all, or some, of the people involved fully realized it.

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Back to the events leading to Sasuke's encounter with Konoha.

Not a fortnight ago, the inner circle of the Uchiha had answered the summoning issued by their clan head and gathered within the patriarch salon at the clan’s shrine.

An outsider had been included in the meeting, taken in by Fugaku himself. The inner circle of the Uchiha had not dared object such an unusual presence. Their uncanny guest had been a man who could easily pass for a snake if he ever wanted to, Orochimaru.

High in the trees surrounding the shrine, a lonely shadow awaited, eyes swirling red taking in every detail. He had not been deemed worthy to participate on the clan meeting, and he noticed that the heir had not been summoned either. Uncommon as that was it had not been unheard of, furthermore during Fugaku’s ruling.

However, the aforementioned did nothing to explain the presence of a complete outsider. Shisui could sense a heavy seal cast on him, the man had been rendered enable to record much less share anything related to the Uchiha. It still did little to ease his mind. Fugaku was playing a dangerous game, one that undoubtedly would affect his own.

Perhaps attempting to infiltrate the inner circle had not been such a good idea. What had begun as a quest for reckoning had finally ended in another kind of biding.

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_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hexagram 53 is named 漸 (jiàn), "Infiltrating". Other variations include "development (gradual progress)" and "advancement". Its inner trigram is ☶ (艮 gèn) bound = (山) mountain, and its outer trigram is ☴ (巽 xùn) ground = (風) wind.
> 
> Also, this chapter got shorter than planned, I decided to cut and save the last scene as to better focus on the missing Uchiha next time. The question left -purposefully- unaddressed right now would be: Who do you think is Shisui's father? Madara or Izuna? Let me know what you think.


	5. Hexagram 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was used to his sparsely furnished room, no speck of dust polluted it, no smell lingered, no sound ringed about it either. It was a little like him he thought idly, a blank canvas matching a black and white existence, no shades of color in between, if not for the lustful deadly warm red that complimented it most often than not. In which one Uchiha is at the receiver end of Hexagram 18.

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He felt as if he was aflame, burning. It scorched into his flesh, suffocating, a body turned into a cage.

His wild, hard gained power had been reduced to nothing, and he could do naught to erase it, release himself from its binding.

And the flames did not stop licking his insides, serpents of imperious power sizzling his very veins, but all was a matter of perspective.

His physical form remained restrained in the bare room, it had been hours since his capture, now another battle was at hand. A raging one to split apart his psych.

Each wall built was taken down, torn apart by brutal assault. His mind conjured new ones, strained to erect stronger ones, higher ones, yet each layer fell, faster and fouler.

He retreated then, the first step back sending dread thorough his whole sentient system. Reminding him of a tall and stern figure his younger mind could not possible recall but still managed to bring up in that very moment.

If it could have possibly materialized, it would have announced the breaching of his mind, echo the undoubtable fact that he was one step too gone into finally giving up.

“Give in, boy. Give in.” the words were cold yet so tempting, they reflected the swirl of the seal characters twisting around his frame.

He would not. It hurt, this intrusion. It ripped off layer after layer of his psych, but he was a sealing user himself, he knew their inner workings.

It started with a prickle, then a prodding, if one had a weak mind and did not as oppose the intrusion that would be all to it. However, to individuals such as himself, barriers had been put into place, built as a mean of protection to mental and physical assaults alike, some of which he had unconsciously put up to protect his world from shattering with each deception, each proof of indifference and unworthiness.

A flash of the tall and stern figure returned to his inner eye, he knew it well. Fugaku. He had built most of his resilience thanks to the man. If anyone had asked him now, he would not be certain to be thankful or the opposite. Entertaining as it might have been, the thought did not linger enough to warrant an answer no one would hear.

Sasuke’s most urgent issue beside his captivity was his chakra sealed off.

For a Sasuke striped of his chakra yet so very conscious of what was being done, the intrusion felt as a hot knife twisting his inwards, gutting out his ego to replace it with something else in its stead, be it partially or entirely, he had yet to find out.

He knew they wanted something, there had to be a reason they had taken him down without outright killing him. Intelligence was the most likely motivation, for going so far as to seal his chakra just to be able to try and split his mind apart was proof that he held some value in life.

The thought brought a disturbing comfort at the forefront of his rapidly fracturing thinking-process.

How strange was it that his enemies tried so hard to find something worthy of their efforts and time, something he himself deemed inexistent? Whilst his own flesh and blood had disregarded his existence since his very conception.

Alas, he also knew a young mind such as his, overwrought by a weakened body was so much easier to break in, hurtful as it may.

In the end, he had taken that one step back, which whimsical or not, had translated into his physical body responding to his mind hurting all over.

Shoulders trembling, arms restrained unable to wrap themselves around his torso as he needed right now, if only to find comfort from his own breaking mind, he bit his lips until they bled.

The physical restrains no longer registered, overridden as they were, but his body was now undergoing rapidly growing erratic spams.

It did no longer matter that his eyelids were finally allowed to close off, breathing coming in hard short puffs to turn into sickly whizzes. His nerves were in overdrive, senses short of no longer being able to notice other physical presences in the dark, damp, gloomy room.

Blood still oozed from some of his major injuries, slowly pooling below his knees and shins. The seating position uncomfortable to boot, yet the sight did little from deterring his assailant.

Swift fingers resumed the sequence of signs, black markings rearranging themselves on the ground and on the Uchiha’s skin, swirling and glowing an angry red.

Noticing the increasingly dramatic spams and the bloodied lips, the concentrated nin only deviated his eyesight to catch the silhouette of the man standing next to him cloaked in darkness. Cold eye and whole stance unwavering, Danzou took all of it within his only visible eye, no sign from ordering a respite.

At the time, Hatake Kakashi knew he had gotten closer to reaching the lowest of his chakra levels in years. Although, he had taken down his mask to better perform the task at hand, they had been going at it for some time now and yet, this Uchiha kid resisted bending and breaking to their will.

It did not help that his prisoner’s physical condition had been taken care only to ensure there was no immediate life threatening injuries that would compromise the current operation, but he knew that had only been true up to a couple of hours ago.

After all he had delivered most of them on the battle field. Danzou had not been quite happy at the sight but had not reprimanded him either. The Uchiha was alive and whole either way, right?

The slow but constant dripping of their captive’s previous injuries was starting to become an issue, but Shimura Danzou, the shadow of shadows did not remove his eyes from the Uchiha at his feet.

Just as he felt his chakra waver the tiny bit and flickered his eyes back on his target, focused back on infusing an additional layer onto his seal, Kakashi heard more than he saw Danzou breaking up his stance.

“It is time to meet with Hiruzen.” He said simply before turning his back on their captive, lone eye glinting with something akin to excitement.

If there had been disappointment in his words, no hint of it had slipped in his voice, but Kakashi knew the man well, he need not issue the unspoken order to resume the operation after the Hokage regent had been dealt with.

At the very least, the recess would give him some time to replenish his forces, and maybe even get some additional Uchiha blood to spill before he broke him complete and utterly.

“I expect Orochimaru to be here when I return.” A curt nod was his only reply as both left the Uchiha restrained to the ground, blood and sweat glistening in the dim light of the dying candles.

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Sarutobi Hiruzen, regent of Konoha, the title would had been taken more seriously if he had not been filling in the position to prevent changes in the status quo until the previous leader’s grand-daughter was once again considered apt to lead them, taking upon her role as leader of the Senju.

Obviously her circumstances were no laughing matter to most of the faithful Senju, the loss of her husband-to-be, Dan, had been a hard blow to deal with. More so, since it had been an unexpected occurrence -even in their line of work- and it had been disastrous to the state of mind of Tsunade, Konaha’s heiress.

Needless to say, in addition to the Senju leader painfully obvious weakness, there was now concern regarding who would ultimately step up after her since there were no longer a clear heir in sight.

A possible bloodline interruption was not a trifling matter after all.

In an effort to maintain the balance within Konoha, a temporary regency had to be put in place, to placate both the growing unrest within the Senju, and to keep some semblance of control within the confines of the Konoha before their foundations started rotting, or worst, some thought it was long time to branch out.

It was secrecy to none in the village that the Sarutobi family had been a longtime ally to the ruling Senju clan, acting as a council, or individual advisors when need be. As such, it also came as no surprise when Hiruzen, a former member of the council and elder of the Sarutobi stepped up as regent.

The Konoha council up to that day had had a number of members, which also included the head of Konoha militia, Shimura Danzou.

Whilst the Sarutobi had a history of its own to back the Senju clan inception, the Shimura family had made its way up the hierarchy originating from a merchant position, a non-recognized clan as some would refer to it.

The generations-old clan members most often than not would remark on it, unassumingly gloating on their pride as warrior, earned or not. After all, even in Konoha your family name gave meaning to many a thing.

That too had changed over time.

Shimura Danzou was nowadays in charge of the ANBU, Konoha’s main militia and on top of that, managed an elite cell called 根 Foundation (Root) that nobody quite knew much about and has been kept off the book by the previous leader, Senju Tobirama.

Many a thing had changed when Tobirama had been holding the reins after his brother, the eldest councilors to date, Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu, who made up the rest of the council had seen with their own eyes.

There had been whispers as well, for Konoha was made up by other clans whose numbers varied same as their wealth, and more importantly, their blood potential.

Tobirama had been much less lenient than his brother concerning war-deals. Much less prone to forgive spilled blood, and let the past rest. Root had been conceived to protect Konoha’s fundations, but it had grown from a man’s bitterness, entrusted to the one mind akin to his.

In a world as theirs, hatred lurked just below the surface, and the sinister white masks bringer of death did little to starve an environment filled by blood and games of power.

 .

“Is the report accurate?”

The blond man of the question had stepped inside the room not a moment ago and stood straight before him, posture as formal as always if not for his slightly disheveled hair.

If Hiruzen had not been regent he would probably have apologized to the man for summoning him in the middle of the night, alas he was and as such had to make that type of calls when need be.

“Have a seat Minato. They should be coming in shortly to answer this one and other questions”, was all it required to have the ANBU captain take his place by his side as they waited for Danzou’s arrival.

Not much later the rest of the council arrived, Danzou the last of them. Their gathering mainly focused on the ANBU latest missions, one report standing out above the others.

“Have you confirmed the boy’s blood?” Hiruzen had awaited Danzou’s report on the case at hand to ask the question everyone in the room had wanted to.

The head of Foundation had taken great pleasure in explained the use of chakra suppressors, the pain they brought and the need to imprint a seal that would ensure not a glimpse of an Uchiha blood-limit would remain as an unaddressed threat within Konoha.

“Enough proof has been given, Hiruzen. However, as far as blood limit that Uchiha mongrel is at the bottom of the food chain. Such intrusive sealing has been applied because, a bound Uchiha is the only worthy Uchiha we can afford keeping alive.”

Shimura Danzou had always been a cold calculating man, once upon a time Hiruzen had been well acquainted with him, as such his words left little room to rebuke.

The Sarutobi regent had no reason to not take for a fact that the Uchiha captured by Foundation, out of luck, held down and secured with chakra suppressors, under Danzou’s orders was a lesser Uchiha blood, and as such had not been granted their full ocular abilities.

He both had no arguments to question the fact that this Uchiha youngster had been left to die by his fellows after an attack and ultimately deserted the clan, that was until he crossed path with a Foundation unit that so happened to have Hatake Kakashi at the head.

Hiruzen had honestly too much in his plate, the Senju heiress had not been making any progress as of late, her deep depression had seemingly sucked off her will to live. Perhaps the latest development had brought up a softer side to him that his warriors days would not have previously allowed.

Premature as it seemed, the Sarutobi patriarch took pity of the boy he had yet to come face-to-face with, given his lesser but still acknowledgeable value he was to remain alive until his use could be correctly asserted.

Upon hearing the expected decision, Danzou could barely contain the smirk of his face. Afterward, it only took but some additional sugar-coating to bend the council to his will.

The Uchiha would first undergo questioning, they could not afford to neglect the possible source of intel they much required to deal with the Uchiha. Then a conditioning program would be enforced before being allowed a place within Konoha, whichever might it be. 

Perhaps if Hiruzen had less been pending of the very lost Tsunade and been paying close attention to his surrounding as was expected of him, he would have realized the game set up by his very comrade.

“This would also require a guarantee of some sort.” Minato who had been silently following the exchanges finally made his opinion known.

“Of course, general Minato. Fortunately we have been able to place a spy within the Uchiha.” Danzou needed no other prompt to unveil his agent activities.

After that, bringing up that it had been Orochimaru all along working under his orders to get in the good grace of one Uchiha Fugaku, stirring up trouble when convenient in return for letting him continue with his less than etic researches, the later did no longer seem to matter to the council.

Konoha had one of their own within the Uchiha, this had to be the major breakthrough ever, and who cared of one lesser blood they had left behind.

As he left the premises, excited to be back in Uchiha Sasuke’s presence, second son of the Uchiha clan leader, Fugaku, Danzou could no longer help but let an aggravating smile grace his cold blooded face.

_Fools, just fools._

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He woke up used to his sparsely furnished room, no speck of dust polluted it, no smell lingered, no sound ringed about it either.

It was a little like him he thought idly, a blank canvas matching a black and white existence, no shades of color in between, if not for the lustful deadly warm red that complimented it more often than not.

Red came in the shape of splashes, specks big and tiny, patterns flickering, fading in white and black alike. In the midst of it, a shape formed itself, and then he felt it, the warmth of it, the stickiness too.

Red against white, not a snowy white, but one of the flesh. The red flow came from it, parted from a slice not deep enough to turn the flesh cold, but enough to send nervousness into his fingers as the liquid coated them.

Despite the closed shoji doors that allowed only the barest of light to slip in, the softly lit room remained plunged in darkness, yet he could still see himself dressing a wound on his brother’s side.  He did that at times, albeit it seemed not to matter much right now.

He could also remember his own body hurting but not paying it any mind either, as his focus had been Itachi’s. For some reason he could no longer care to remember why had that been so important.

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Sasuke blinked again, bare walls of the same, a sparsely furnished room welcomed him, and then it hit him. He only had time to suck in a deep breath to stop the scream from escaping his throat.

The pain that engulfed his mid-section and back was freshly delivered but he could not pin-point its source. However, it did not distract him from his purpose, taking care of Itachi. Why was that? Again, no answer.

His body was aching, limbs short from contracting in painful spams, fingers not trembling from sheer determination only, and dread…dread?

He would notice it and all would end until next time.

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The overly familiar blank walls were once again in sight, a greyish white, unblemished and cold.

His eyes fell on the hands on his lap, palms turned upward, clean, and delicate even. Fingers flexing, he brought index and thumb together, nothing tainted them and still the feeling of something warm and sticky remained. He could only think of red, blood that should have been there but remained absent.

Time had passed since the taking care of the injury had transpired, they were once again alone. The elder of the two had thanked him then, for taking care of something, something that caused him pain.

Sasuke could no longer pin-point whether the damage had been caused by Itachi or if he had been the cause, one thing he knew, it always was painful and it never put his mind at ease.

His past-self held so many conflicting emotions within the presence of Itachi, admiration was perhaps at the forefront of his mind, along love and something akin to longing. As to what he was longing for, he could no longer figure it out.

All in all, it did not seem to matter when he could also recall the apprehension, the fear and the dread.

Feelings he managed to hide well, and somehow provided an explanation for forcing himself not to care for his injuries, painful as they were.

The pain, along his concerns, his feelings… it all faded back into one blank canvas.

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Unbeknownst to him, all it only took then was a little more of probing and twisting from his prompter, and Sasuke’s mind conjured another cause, Itachi did not care for a spare’s feelings.

Siblings or not, Sasuke was born to stand at attention, he would take it, endure it, and Itachi knew it.

He saw it now, in the dimly lit room his past-self was making an effort to stop the pain induced temblors from showing. Itachi was leaving him to sort the healing gear out and turn off the candle light.

He left him to bear his pain, alone and in the dark, not a glance of care thrown his way.

That night, he had twisted in pain, he had tried easing his injuries with chakra but it had back-fired, he had already used plenty of his chakra on Itachi.

After tending to him, attempting further healing jutsu had only been enough to start mending his back before depleting him completely and having to suffer from a shortage of chakra, a dangerous thing to do in an already weakened state.

Sasuke could taste its sting on his tongue even through his present delusion, his body convulsed, bleeding inward just as it did that night…

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“Danzou-sama, you are entering dangerous grounds now. His mind will not hold on for much longer.” A pause, Danzou’s eyes did not blink, much less cut contact with his prey.

“At this pace, neither will his body, Danzou-sama.” The tone was flat, uncaring for the Uchiha was an interesting and rare specimen to have in their hands, but he was just that and nothing else to him.

When Kakashi had called for him behind his mask, Orochimaru knew the time had come. The Uchiha spare was in their midst, young and untainted.

He had caught a glimpse of him before, at the Uchiha’s. Fugaku had not spoken a word of his existence until the time was right, the heir was unapproachable but the spare would suffice. Cold and uncaring words to spill from a parent’s lips. He had been smitten then, pleasantly surprised that his own mission would warrant a little fun.

However, losing the boy to Danzou’s mind games would not do for either of their plans.

One blink short of interfering, just as he spotted blood running down the young man’s nose and eyes, obviously stroking, Danzou cunning as he was seemed to have reached the same conclusion and released his bind.

“Make sure he wakes up to the best of his physical condition but do not attempt chakra feeding him yet.” 

Orochimaru held his breath, for not a few seconds had passed and Danzou finally closed his eyelids, cutting himself of the jutsu he held on the Uchiha.

Extending his harm, his fingers signed a _蠱_ _(Correcting)_ hexagram on the boy’s cheek and Sasuke’s restrained body was finally put at ease, no longer convulsing. His fingers were finally an inch from touching him, white skin and blood on it, calling to him like a burning torch to a moth.

 “And Orochimaru, do not meddle with him any further. That boy is mine.”

The unspoken threat did little to deter him, Orochimaru would not meddle further than Danzou would allow, but the raven head was now opened to a vast array of never tested stimulus. A man could only dream. He, well, he would carry it out no doubt.

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_-Half a year gone by-_

Itachi had not let go, punishment and all, he would not let the topic of Sasuke’s disappearance rest. The boy was not dead. He had not defected either. By all means, his younger brother was not a lost cause, another casualty without a name or memories to warrant retaliation for.

Sasuke was blood, he was just as Fugaku’s flesh as he was.

However, cruel and harsh reality had caught up to him. Itachi could not let go of his duties, missions had been piling up, the village had been under deep stress and the council had been growing restless as a consequence.

Fugaku, as per usual, was not worried about it in the least, Itachi had tried to confront him but his clan leader would replace the father, often mentioning Sasuke had it coming for being a weakling, not up to expectations and ultimately failing to serve his one purpose.

He had yet to announce Sasuke’s death however, and it served him well enough to occupy the council. The issue had soon become a bitter topic in the heir’s mind. Itachi kept coming back on that fact with Shisui, just as it soon became a certainty something was amiss within the Uchiha.

Fugaku had to know Sasuke was alive, which in turn raised another can of worms. Did he know his whereabouts at all? Further inquiry would be rising accusation, with no visible support but Shisui’s, Itachi could not risk stepping out of line again.

An unexpected day missions-free had him sharing yet another tea with his mother. Perhaps she felt his need of medical assistance more than he had sought it, nevertheless they were once again seating around the low carved table, facing the unchanging garden pond.

“It was but a mild one and should heal just fine now.” His mother was referring to the cut on his side courtesy of his latest opponent, one that now rested six-feet under fortunately.

He nodded minutely, gratitude acknowledged. After sipping at his tea, the cup finally rested on his palm whilst his eyes caught the endless cycle of the _sōzu_ by the pound.

“ _He_ took care of the ones before.” Itachi needed not mention who he was referring to, Mikoto instantly knew his youngest had healed the heir’s injuries. Her surprise came over the fact he had indeed honed her teachings in a way she had not quite suspected.

“Such a bright child.” Her appreciation tinged by pride only aggravated Itachi’s suspicions.

An inaudible sigh later, he could no longer disregard the doubt clouding his mind. Mikoto had not given up on Sasuke, she had to know, somewhat feel trough the bond only a mother could form, that her child had not passed away.

A few words had sufficed, what became as a hint ended translating in facts through her inner eye.

Itachi had seen it, how would she not? There had been a time when Sasuke’s injuries had seemed right, their way of life pretty much demanded children to toughen up in their very first years of life, and injuries were meant to happen.  

However, later ones, those that Sasuke would just barely try to explain to get Mikoto enough feedback so she could in turn correctly assess the damage and the technique required to fix it; those she had turned a blind eye to, and Itachi had known.

Fugaku’s ways, his shadowy access to the clan’s leadership, mishandling Sasuke for years. Mikoto had been the one behind his healing abilities development but she had not confronted her husband once, had not done a thing but provide her son’s with the means of survival _._

“Perhaps it is for the best, Itachi.” Seeing her son’s hand tense around the cup, she halted him with one hand. “Kin who share the same flesh and blood are bound to suffer, it is the Uchiha way. Shisui would know of course, he would have told you, counseled even.”

There it was again, the subtle hint of the village previous leader, Uchiha Madara. As was customary he had a younger brother. Izuna and Madara, the muffled story that still passed from one generation to the next within the confines of the village. Heir and spare, elder and younger barely years apart, and yet so close, so very close indeed.

His tea cup emptied, Itachi thanked his mother, letting her to her own devices. She too had much to ponder, a spare might not have meant a great deal to the clan but a son was a different matter altogether.

Harshness would forge a shinobi, but an abused upbringing would only bring regret in the long run.

Perhaps that day might have been the right one to disclose the secret behind the ‘replacement’ policy within the clan, one which had to do with their ocular _dojutsu_ , the hidden power within the Uchiha blood.

The Uchiha shrine held many a promise of answer, Itachi knew, Mikoto had told him.

A crow flapping off a tree cackling his way through the sky, had not distracted him from his path.

Hours later, Itachi now started to piece the puzzle that was his father. His actions had a meaning, one he did not agree with for obvious reasons, and yet, figuring it out would bring him closer to get Sasuke back from wherever he was.

Dawn was closer now and he still had to get out of the shrine unseen, Fugaku had summoned his inner council, their guest Orochimaru was back in their midst.

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_To be continued..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hexagram 18 is named 蠱 (gŭ), "Correcting". Other variations include "work on what has been spoiled (decay)", decaying and "branch".[1] Its inner trigram is ☴ (巽 xùn) ground = (風) wind, and its outer trigram is ☶ (艮 gèn) bound = (山) mountain. Gu is the name of a venom-based poison traditionally used in Chinese witchcraft.
> 
> Sōzu is a type of water fountain used in Japanese gardens. It consists of a segmented tube, usually of bamboo, pivoted to one side of its balance point. At rest, its heavier end is down and resting against a rock. A trickle of water into the upper end of the tube accumulates and eventually moves the tube's centre of gravity past the pivot, causing the tube to rotate and dump out the water. The heavier end then falls back against the rock, making a sharp sound, and the cycle repeats.
> 
> So, firstly I'm glad this is finally looking up. Well, not so much for Sasuke, or Itachi... or anyone at all but Danzou, uhm, but I've been struggling to find the right pace for this chapter. Also, I might have unconsciously been inserting more japanese suffixes & words, honestly, when starting this fic I had in mind avoiding such occurences but sometimes it just feel right to put them there. If anyone find it a tad annoying or something let me know so I can find a solution that give a similar rendering. 
> 
> Finaly, you will have noticed the middle part of the chapter is a bit more fractured than the previous ones, it occurs mostly during the Sasuke's parts and the reason is because he's undergoing trough such a massive mind-assault it traslated into the writing, sort of. Anyway, there's still much to it coming next, we're reaching the middle point of this story so something is meant to happen by now, right?


	6. Hexagram 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just how could have an intelligence gathering mission gone ‘that’ wrong? Itachi had not expected a seizure to be triggered in the middle of a battle for their lives. Shisui had barely managed to side-glance at him before it happened, and it did fast, before he too fell, right at his feet.  
> Just when he was at his end’s rope, the meaning of Hexagram 32 brought one Uchiha back on his feet.

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_Seven months prior…_

If anyone had asked him, _ecstatic_ would have been the most fitting term to describe how he was feeling at the moment. Alas, no one did, and he highly doubted the thought had even crossed the mind of any of the blood-red eyes holders awaiting him by the gates.

The fact that the summon engraved in the seal bestowed on his arm would not allow him to trace, much less remember the path deep in the mountain, or that the seal would not enable his mind to retain the superb handcraft on the wood gates of the Uchiha shrine was a matter of little concern to him.

Time was such a fickle thing, a day would come when these details would matter to none but the pile of dead bodies of the Uchiha kind, a day when all that was standing be it alive or built would be reduced to ashes.

Such a fitting end for masters of fire he thought, if only Danzou had less of a sadistic streak in him, he would perhaps consent to keep some subjects.

Bloodlines tended to dilute through time and generations, but Uchihas had kept to themselves. It was the kind of gold Orochimaru looked to keep his hands full of.

“I’m glad interest was taken in my latest message.” smugness slipping past his lips, his golden eyes gleamed under the pale moon as he looked unwavering into Uchiha Fugaku’s.

With just a curt nod the Uchiha guards retreated to the shadows, the snake nin of the Konoha nest took the cue to follow him as they headed to the shrine, the one and only place Fugaku ever seemed to trust him to be within their stronghold.

On his second and latest summoning, Orochimaru had given a first glance at the sealing surrounding the place. Sure enough, it was their council’s meeting place and other Uchiha important events stage as well, but the complexity of the sealing surrounding it made him wonder what was so valuable that it required such measures.

He had a theory of course. The heads back at Konoha were also a bunch of jealous keepers of its secrets, most of which he had had direct access thanks to his links within the council, namely Danzou.  As such, it was likely the Uchiha kept interesting and coveted techniques in there.

Now protected by the inner walls of the shrine, Orochimaru shared his intel on the Senju. Konoha was somewhat at a crossroad, the Senju heiress had fallen to deep heartache of which she could well not ever recover.

Fugaku had snorted at his recount, not at all impressed. He had known something was going on within the village, Sarutobi Hiruzen had been unofficially overseeing things, rumors ran wild but none had yet unveiled the truth.

“Mingling blood will be the Senju’s doom no doubt.” that was the one comment Fugaku let out whilst sharing sake over the news.

The upsetting part on Orochimaru’s part was that the Uchiha had not been particularly surprised.

The situation within the inner Konoha circle had been dire, but not made public. The Senju had mingled with other clans over the years that was common knowledge. But Senju Tsunade’s loss had been kept quiet, furthermore after the latest developments it brought.

Perhaps his earlier assessment had been right, he could tip the balance his way if he managed to give information Fugaku had no access to.

“This might be our chance to target her as well, since it seems you are eager to see it happen.”  Their cups of sake clinked together, each sipping to their own successes laying ahead.

.

Not a month later, the assassination attempt had of course failed, a rather strangely paired up ANBU squad had unexpectedly come on the way of the Uchiha. It had cost them dearly as well, a complete cell of veteran clan members had been almost obliterated; would have been actually, if not for the quick thinking and wit Itachi and Shisui had come with.

Nevertheless their target had been lost during the ferocious battle, unable to locate her they finally had to retreat, least they would not make it back at all.

It was well past midnight when they arrived, Itachi had made sure everyone was taken care of before heading back to the household. Shisui had protested, clearly concerned by their failure and what it would entail, but Itachi had still left to get whichever sleep he could before reporting to the Council within the following hours.

But Shisui was no fool, he knew what was actually eating at the Uchiha’s heir.

Sleep deprived, nasty bleeding gash on his side, or a report did not really matter to Itachi. Sasuke did, and he was eager to catch a glimpse of him at the slightest chance.

If he recalled it right, earlier that day, Sasuke had been scheduled back from a mission. It just fit.

Heart aching, Shisui decided tonight he would just let Fugaku’s household be. His bitterness would just have to keep eating at him tomorrow.

.

As Itachi allowed the tension off his shoulders the back gate closing soundlessly after him, he was glad Shisui had not persisted to follow him home. 

Just a few steps later, his eyes went straight to the face behind the flickering light of a candle that had suddenly lit up.

“Sasuke…” The name left his lips as a prayer finally answered would, but Sasuke did not raise his eyes to meet his own, rather they stalled on his side.

“Your wound.” Of course, the wound he had sustained during their failed attack. Leave it to his little brother to notice it on spot he thought, a small smile lingering on his lips.

Before he could say anything on the matter the candle had been left on the closest piece of furniture available and Sasuke’s fingers started emitting a soft green hue.

Sharingan out of commission due to his chakra low levels, Itachi had relied on his familiarity with both the village and house layouts to step around in darkness, but the change of light position had now provided him access to Sasuke’s mid-section.

Naked and bruised. A combination that did not sit right on his gut.

It looked taken care off, no blood or smell lingering, the line of the cut on his arm’s skin suggested it had not been life-endangering either, but it also looked recent. Several yellowish-like stains remained as well, unfortunately it was harder to tell if these had been healed just then or were just not very recent at all.

“What happened to you?” Itachi’s question hung on the air, having just barely stilled Sasuke’s hands over his ribs. The short intake of breath that followed did nothing to ease his concern. His voice had taken a demanding tone, short of making Sasuke flinch.

“You should not dwell on it brother, I am just grateful you will not arise our father’s disapproval.” Sasuke’s words spoken softly, gently, in return held a warning that Itachi could not forsake.

Their father had most likely already sensed Itachi and further postponing of his report would not be welcomed, the man would want to know what happened before Itachi made the official report.

“Right. Go on with it then.” At once the green glow intensified as deft fingers started mending the flesh.

There was an air of urgency in Sasuke’s handling, Itachi was left to ponder whether it was concern over the time it was taking to handle the wound, or if Sasuke was actively avoiding further inquiries.

He did, however, not dare disturb his little brother.

On the field he had been able to stop most of the blood loss but Sasuke had this feather like touch that seemed to mend the muscle tissues and layers of skin with acute precision that little to no scaring was left behind.  

Itachi had no doubt this came to a price, but Sasuke refused to tell.

He could only relax his muscles as Sasuke’s chakra permeated his skin, a soft tingle reverberating close to his ribs, and a seeping sense of peace cursing his veins as the touch warmed his body. It felt heavenly, Sasuke’s presence so close, so earnest his heart started beating faster, as invisible strings pulled at it in different directions.

All too soon, traces of physical pain receded and dulled away, Itachi’s eyes refocused on Sasuke then, the youngest eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration, a thin film of perspiration on his forehead… it was minute-like but Itachi felt it, Sasuke’s fingers faltered.

Low-chakra induced _tremors_.

As realization hit him, Itachi instantly tensed up startling Sasuke. Regretting his own fear to cause indirect harm to Sasuke, he brought up his hand to ruffle the youngest hair in silent apology.

Still, Sasuke avoided his eyes just as much as he tried to stop his trembling fingers, balling his hands. Itachi could not fathom the reason as to why Sasuke acted this way, he had done such a terrific job, and truly, it amazed him.

Silence stretched awkwardly between them, Itachi wanted to close the distance, a step would have sufficed to share the same air, run his fingers to swipe the sweat gathered there and have a taste of his skin, a _brotherly_ kiss he reminded himself, a caring show of affection he knew Sasuke deeply needed, craved for even.

Alas, the moment was lost all too soon, a distinct chakra flare had made itself known. Fugaku was awaiting.  

“Well thank you so much for taking care of that, little brother.” As his words were accompanied with a poke to Sasuke’s forehead, he swiftly turned and made his way further inside the house without glancing back.

He had missed the chance to bring them both closer, he also had missed the way Sasuke’s eyes had looked up at him then, frail and doubtful.

Not too long after Itachi left, Sasuke made his way back to his room. With his brother’s back he could not afford being found out. With already trembling fingers he forced chakra up his hands, the soft green hue trying to ease the hurt on his back he had left uncared for as soon as he had sensed Itachi enter through the back gate.

.

_Earlier that day…_

He had made it back from his mission by mid-afternoon, mostly unscathed this time as it had been a recon mission. Something told him Fugaku had not been particularly concerned over his safety when he sent him along another senior Uchiha but he had endured the situation at the best of his abilities feeling that it was perhaps another test of the like his father threw at him, more often than not.

They were supposed to take the shortest route to a merchant village past the border of their territories, a two days mission at most. However, his fellow Uchiha had set a different route on the way back. Albeit the length had not been significantly altered, to Sasuke’s liking it still meant coming close to one too many Konoha controlled outposts.

His sour face had then been become the topic of one-sided conversation. Which ultimately lead to many snide remarks on his overall worth.

Needless to say, he had wanted to fulfill the mission as swiftly as possible before he either snapped, as unlikely it was to happen given the circumstances he had to live with, or…

His thoughts never came to full circle as he felt razor sharp eyes on him causing his foot to falter in his step just enough to miss the branch right ahead and land on the next one half a tree below, full stop. The other Uchiha came to a halt some trees ahead, most likely cursing him but Sasuke heard none of it.

He zeroed on his location, stretching his chakra to try and pin-point the owners of the eyes on him, to no avail.

With no intent detected within their immediate position, Sasuke was left with no proof to stall. On a solo mission it would have been his call to stop and switch routes. This time however his partner had not sensed a thing, so stalling would only bring trouble on his end.

And trouble it got him. Past half-way on their way back, and a good couple of hours or so after the mishap, both Uchiha stopped by a small river bank to refill their water canteens and freshen up.

Least in the presence of his father, Sasuke had never been self-conscious of his body. As warriors, most if not all of the Uchiha on active duty had worked-up bodies, it was not uncommon to see each other’s upper body on training grounds for example.

Sasuke had been somewhat of an exception to this sort of happenings but that day had perhaps been the first he thought something wrong was going on.

“Fine body you’ve got there, eh.” The comment had come out of the blue from his partner sitting leisurely against a tree shaded by the tree leaves.

Not thinking much of it Sasuke kept busying himself with his canteen, once filled up he put it aside and took some water into his hands bringing it up to his face to splash it against his skin and hair. It worked wonders to freshen him up as the Sun was now high in the sky, unmercifully hot.

Eyes closed and ears attuned to the running water, he had failed to hear the other Uchiha standing up until his hand closed on his shoulder, mouth just an inch away from his ear.

“Fine indeed, so very _Izuna-like_ …” the fingers had ran down his shoulder blade then, rough skin used to handling weapons traced his skin along water droplets. Sasuke’s mind went blank, muscles tensing over the unfamiliar touch he could not decide was welcomed or not.

He could feel it then, the sharpness of the man’s eyes, much alike the unknown ones before but still different.

The fingers had reached close to his lower back when they swiftly came back up and grabbed his upper arm in a bruising grip.

“Let’s move.” _Spare_ , the word had not left his lips but Sasuke could make it out the man’s tone as if he had spat it in disgust.

The rest of their way home held no further incidents worth mentioning on Sasuke’s part. As soon as they got to the village they parted ways, the mission report was due in an hour which gave Sasuke time to clean himself and get changed into a simple _samue_ outfit before they faced his father.

.

Sasuke felt as if something was amiss when the due hour passed and he had yet to be summoned.

Fearing he would be late and blamed for it, Sasuke headed toward the front of the house, where the routinely mission reports would be presented.

Just as he neared it, after sensing two familiar signatures, he opened the shôji panel and saw his partner standing up, ready to leave.

“You were not summoned, stay put.” Whichever excuse he was ready to make out remained stuck to his throat, instead he closed the panel back and awaited on the wooden corridor until the second chakra left the premises and the remaining one flared in a way he knew he had better come in right this moment.

If he had been baffled by the whole situation, he now faced a very angry Fugaku for reasons unknown.

“You stupid runt… take off your top clothes.” The threat was not missed, Sasuke obeyed his eyes caught the light of a small blade, kunai or shuriken he could not say for sure.

.

Back in the privacy of the darkness the night provided, trembling fingers tried to get his body a respite of the injuries still lingering on his back.

Itachi had probably not meant to, heck he did not even know about the injuries at all, but he had left him to bear this pain and the thought alone plagued his mind.

Soon the tremors scaled up, attacking his arm and pain erupted. He no longer had enough chakra to keep the healing, and it back-fired in the worst way possible.

On the verge of passing out, he tasted the blood on his tongue…

.

.

.

_Just a few days earlier…_

“Very well, _he_ will do.” There was no mistaking the cold yet calculating tone Fugaku spoke with.

“Sasuke, my second born.” He added then clarifying to the Konoha nin as he brought up his cup of sake.

If he had been taken aback Orochimaru dared not let it show, the Uchiha patriarch’s words sounded final, remorseless, which in turn outweighed his surprise. The first born of the clan’s head house had been just a delicious dream, and Fugaku was no fool.

If he had been the Uchihas would had not been such a recurring issue and Danzou would have gotten off whichever offense he went still about, the guy surely knew how to hold a grudge even if the Uchihas were not quite aware of it.

Complicated times were these, ongoing wars, never-ending battles for power, and the price of blood was no cheap coin to toss around. Orochimaru just thought it served his own motivations right, and it had come just about fine that his abilities were of use to the Foundation’s head.

Surprisingly enough, Uchiha Fugaku’s proved to be as fierce and cunning as he had pictured him to be. A second born was more than Orochimaru had been looking forward to bargain for, he knew just as Fugaku that a lower Uchiha would not do, the price to maintain his upper hand would cost him some. He just had not expected it to be met so willingly and directly from the clan’s head very household.

“Don’t trouble your Konoha head about it. You will understand soon enough once arrangements have been made.” His dark eyes had flickered red for a few seconds, be it from the candles light or his own sharingan springing to life, it left his mind reeling with the thought that Fugaku looked at him as a hawk would a snake.

Thus for, arrangements had been made indeed. Neither would show all of their cards, but it had been agreed that a fortnight from their meeting, the Uchiha youngster would be sent on a solo assassination mission.

It would not be a mock mission but a real deal high-profile one. As such a formal request had to be submitted, as well as the details that followed suit.

After Orochimaru had been summoned off, Fugaku took his time to head back home. Sasuke was due to come back from a recon mission later that day, it would give him the time to set things into motion.

His fingers tingled, a cold dark smirk hanging just about the corner of his lips. So what if some meager blood was lost in the midst of his personal quest? Spares were born to be the stepping stone on which Uchiha blood ascended, never to fall.  

.

.

.

_Half a year after Sasuke’s disappearance._

Itachi had come to realize his health had been dwelling for some time now, Mikoto had withheld the reason behind his abnormal medicine rationing, but he had still be maintaining a good enough condition to participate on a fair amount of missions.

Its number might have been similar, but it did not escape Itachi the fact that their difficulty had dropped significantly, Fugaku had not bothered giving any explanations whatsoever either. Typical.

His teeth clenched, eyes flaring red with the sharingan, posed ready for battle he awaited his adversary make himself known. Shisui had yet to come back, what an untimely situation to be in.

Not twenty minutes ago, he had sensed it, a group of dimmed chakra signatures, so faint it could have easily been completely concealed, which made his spine shiver uncomfortably. Mind spinning, he deduced there had been several reasons behind such maneuver.

Firstly, the surprise element on an imminent attack, which by itself was perfectly logical. Itachi and the rest of his kin had used that tactic all of their active shinobi life.

The second was the one forewarning him. Concealed presences tended to mean his pursuers were most likely tracking someone rather than something, therefore they had to know beforehand who they were tracking. Since they were already within his sensing scope but not fully shadowing their presences he might not have been the intended target.

Worst scenario, they already knew they were tracking an Uchiha, which also guaranteed they were not opponents to be trifled with or underestimated. Thus for there was no actual need to mask their presence once so close to his position.

Nevertheless, the one reason the whole ordeal had unsettled him was that, not bothering to completely seal off their chakra signature meant confidence in their assignment. Worst scenario indeed, he mentally _‘tsk-ed’_ , chakra flaring slightly.

That did it to turn on all of their seekers senses, no longer concerned to hid they switched as one to catch on them; that straight-forward action also meant they were no simple shinobi, rather Itachi deduced them to be at the very least an elite hunting cell, a Konoha ANBU most likely.

“Itachi, what did you do that for?” Shisui voice held urgency as he landed right beside above him on the tree branch.  Just as Itachi, it had become clear in Shisui’s mind that they were after them.

Worst scenario was on then, he caught himself thinking when not a few seconds later their pursuers landed in a wide circle surrounding Shisui’s and his positions.

As an uncomfortable shudder made itself a path up his spine, Shisui and Itachi easily enough recognized the white masks pointed in their direction.

They were devoid of a face, stripped of emotions, hidden behind a veil of cold white porcelain. These were shinobi from the referenced-only in whispers at council meetings, the secret faction in the midst of Konoha ranks, _Foundation._ Or _Root_ as the Uchiha would rather refer to considering its affinity to the Leaf.

They had known of its existence for some time now, that double-faced Orochimaru snake had given out some Intel on the _Root_ group as part of his bargain with Fugaku. That had been one of the many steps taken by their conveniently self-proclaimed ally in order to slither his way into the Uchiha inner circle.

Whilst he had not come into direct contact with the snake-like man but once, Itachi had been given these details by Fugaku. At the time he had bet it to be only a fraction of information he had been given thorough the whole meeting they both held.

During that one meeting Itachi had finally been introduced to the man, he had felt it in his bones that Orochimaru was amused at the heir being kept in the dark about something. He had been tempted to _sharingan_ him right there, but had refrained when Fugaku’s hard eyes fell on him.  

Back to the issue at hand, Itachi mentally refocused on the unwavering trio of masks before them.

Fear was not a part of Itachi’s character, but he was human nonetheless, these were shadows of shadows, bringers of death for as much Konoha held its beliefs high, or apparently tried to. _Root_ had made itself known on another occasion, when Sasuke had gone missing.

Itachi, and Shisui by default, had come to the conclusion it had to be the one group capable of taking him down using his very own strength, seals. As realization had hit him, Itachi did not even surprise himself by the rage overtaking his senses.

These might as well be the ones that took him down, might as well held information on his whereabouts. Fear would do no good, determination to unveil the truth about Sasuke took over.

There had been no further indication on their part, no introduction, no warnings. Itachi had not been surprised by Shisui reaching the same conclusions he had, which probably explained his switch in position, just a step ahead of Itachi and his chakra flaring was all it had required to make their adversaries focus their attention and efforts on him first.

In the blur of what took place afterward, Itachi’s _sharingan_ activated and he took down one of the men attempting a slash at Shisui’s neck. The man fell with a kunai slammed in his head with such force the pointy end came out on the other side of his skull, cracking open his mask, eyes unblinking.

The occurrence did not make the other assailant break his pace. If he had been aware of what had transpired, he had not cared for he went for a strike of his sword on Shisui’s tight. Instead of an instant killer strike as it had been intended, Shisui managed to block some of it.

His efforts proved not enough thought, focused as he was on the blade, he got hit square in his chest, breaking his balance and giving his assailant enough momentum to strengthen his grip on the blade.

The cut, however less powerful as intended, had been deep enough to guarantee several layers of muscles were severed in its wake across Shisui’s flesh, perhaps even nerves, Itachi could not tell with enough precision from his position.

He had been able to see the blood flowing freely down his cousin’s damaged leg. Shisui grunted, but held most of his pain to himself, these injuries were hard to deal with in the aftermath of a battle but not unheard of.

It did however cost them most of their offensive range, cutting off considerable room for maneuver, therefor time to form and build up many of their techniques. Both Uchiha, strategists at heart as they were, would have acted the exact same way if the roles had been reversed.

Shisui usually took the forefront, using his unrivaled speed for close range attack, whilst Itachi usually took the back, long range was more of his way to deal with whoever was the prey.

However, cutting Shisui’s leg that deep had also cut down significantly their options. With no time left to ponder the mastery or coincidences behind their current issue, Itachi attempted to fend off his own attacker, swiftly building chakra to cast an illusion. It was right then, he felt _it_.

It was as if an internal leak had suddely made itself known.

He had been acquainted with the symptoms so well through the years that he only faltered for the blink of an eye after disregarding the possibility of something major going on within his body. The memory of Mikoto handing him a small paper bag flashed within his mind, heading out with Shisui shortly after he had yet to take the dose.

Another mistake made, as he would only later realize.

Willing the chakra to build faster as his sword clashed with their third opponent, eyes searching for a way to lock themselves with his match, he failed to notice the menace of a seizure popping its ugly head until it happened.

Just as his other hand managed to get a grip on a kunai and his muscles exerted themselves to make the weapon close the distance until it embedded itself deep into the man’s chest, Itachi’s felt something finally pop in his inside.

Just as the white mask fell out his line of view, body stiff as a board, kunai buried deep in his enemy’s heart, his very own closed upon itself.

Lung collapse had not felt so intense in a decade to the very least, yet this time, it just felt as his insides decided to fold into a ball of sickening flesh, muscle, bland tissue, smashed together, squeezing his blood out.

Which last of all happened.

Suddenly on his knees, blood dribbling out his mouth, he felt more than saw Shisui breaking his stance to look at him, taking the decision Itachi had dreaded would never come to pass.

For a fleeting strained breath, he remembered it, that dreadful oath Shisui was made to take before Fugaku, before the inner circle of the clan.

The very same inner circle whose members had been sworn to Uchiha Madara, therefor to Izuna, long before it all tumbled down.  

Had their elders not fell out, had Fugaku not taken over the clan, Itachi would had been the one whose heart would cease its beating right this instant.

He would have been the one whose blood sprayed out, splashing from his back with a sickening sizzle as blinding and deadly accurate lightning surged though his ribcage before Itachi had the time to blink anew.

There had also been a fourth member.

Itachi had not expected it, neither had Shisui. A true shadow of shadows, the _Root_ cell-head.

If not for the surge of chakra the user apparently required when dealing a direct blow on Shisui, he would have just never made his presence known.

It was a technique unheard of.

Where Itachi had held high, unyielding, against fear before; he was now at his lowest. As his body was racked by a wave of unforgiving spasms, his cousin on the verge of death at his feet, he felt it now. There simply was no escape.

Mind torn between pain from the seizure and suddenly thinking about his father, the whole mess his greed for power had brought, the untimely manner his sickness decide to rack his body, he had failed to notice the last Root stepping up from his conformable shadows, stopping a few feet away before them.

“Of course, it had to be you.” Shisui’s fading voice snapped Itachi’s attention away from his aching body.

He had sounded bittersweet, no anger nor hate dipped his words. As if he had not just been stabbed to death by an uncanny opponent, but has instead stumbled upon the one thing he desired most.

Blood red eyes met their match then. Shisui’s last breath carried the name on the wind, so soft it lost itself, deluded for it could not have been possible.

Itachi’s mind reeled, unable to  come to terms with the latest happenings with the face of the young man standing straight as the sword his carried, which most likely would end Itachi’s life next.

Shisui’s painfully soft voice echoed in his brain, like a prayer turned tangible.

 “Sasuke…”

As Shisui’s sharingan vanished together with his last breath, black unblinking eyes were now the sole witness of the Uchiha brothers’ reunion.

It was then the strength-sucker illness decided to attack once more before the youngest of them did. Dry coughing racked his lungs, strained his throat, and filled his mouth with metallic-laced liquid.

Blood dripped out Itachi’s mouth before he could even register what was happening.

The eldest of the two finally collapsed not a minute later, body now fully exposed to his impending fate at the hand of his reacquainted little brother.

If Itachi’s body had sustained him enough to check on Shisui’s torn body, he would have noticed the small smile on his face. Lips barely left up at the corners, secrets happily stolen away from the land of the living.

Red uncaring eyes, blinked away the veil overpowering his senses. The sight in front of him fractured his bind, soul stretching pain suddenly bringing him down into darkness. 

.

When Itachi next awakened, he felt strangely refreshed.

His back rested against a large tree bark, legs stretched before him, hands on his lap, limbs unbounded.

He had expected to rouse in some light deprived, dank cell, or just not to wake up any more. Death had seemed an unavoidable deal, just had happened whilst he had been unconscious?

Eyes focused on his surroundings found the traces of the previous battle. It had not been some sort of nightmare, albeit the evidence left was minimal, there was no doubt in his mind it had all happened.

Sasuke was alive.

Shisui was no more.

Four spots on the ground, dark and ashen were all he needed to confirm it. It used to be one of the Uchiha signatures, obliterate the physical evidence by burning it to the ground.

They often used it on their fallen kin, Fugaku had enforced it, and had it legitimated by the council on the ground they lived by fire and died so. It also had the benefit of eliminating the issue of bringing back the body and, avoided possible leaks on Uchiha techniques.

There were only as many ways to ensure the Uchiha supremacy after all.

Itachi did not remember the last time a proper pyre had been built at the Uchiha settlement, but he was sure it had to be Izuna’s, Fugaku’s brother. He had not asked Shisui if he could recall it. Shisui had told him a great deal of things over the years, it had taken time.

Time Itachi never thought would end.

He had not asked because he had known it would have been bad blood between them. After all, it had also been the day Shisui lost his position, which had finally fallen onto Itachi on his birth.

The dark stain on the ground closest to his current position made him come to the brutal realization.

Shisui was no more, indeed.

A young death-bringer wearing his little brother’s skin had finished him off, there was no longer proof of his existence left behind.

Izuna’s line had ended right there, in the simplest of ways, on that dark stained patch of earth lost in the woods.

The strength he did not remind having should have made his rage tangible, his agony should have filled his lungs, his throat vocalized his pain, but he was suddenly rendered impossible to do so.

Next to him laid Shisui’s headband, most of the cloth had been burnt away, as if it had been still attached to his head and ripped off before the flames all but consumed the body.

Sickening as the thought was to Itachi, it made a strange feeling flicker in his inside. Sasuke had done that. Kill Shisui, burn Shisui, take off Shisui’s headband.

There was no doubt left now that Sasuke had been the one behind the attack as well. The lost, long thought dead, Uchiha was alive and for reasons unknown had turned on them, on _him_.

He had killed Shisui in the heat of the battle, Shisui protecting Itachi, duty –no- ill fate bound.

At the thought, bile mingled with the remaining taste of blood in his mouth.

But he had saved Shisui’s last memento.

Itachi’s hands shook as he fiercely gripped on the headband. The loss so big, Shisui’s half smile, frozen on his face until he became ashes.

What had he smiled for?

And Sasuke, Sasuke had been there, the idea so unfathomable it was difficult to rationalize. Red blood eyes had sparked to life, as he stood there at arm’s length. Recognition had lit them up Itachi had no doubt.

Most importantly, he had spared Itachi’s life. It was definite proof.

His white, -surprisingly enough- lightning charged blade had not doubt cut Shisui’s life away. As he stood there next to his cousin’s body, the same blade had dripped blood ready to rip Itachi’s as well, but he had not.

His swirling red eyes had stopped, as if struck by Itachi’s. The white blade had lost its light then, killing intent gone. The bringer of death had let him live.

Not only that, he had healed him.

The realization of such contradictory behavior hit Itachi’s deep, but it was cut short when curiosity deviated his current train of thought to the sudden roughness his fingers felt around what was left of Shisui’s metal plate.

Itachi turned it around, surprise taking over his face, as his eyes came in sight of the inscription carved on its back.

 _Hexagram 32_ , 恆 (héng). Persevering. A small seal encircled it, one Itachi was glad to be familiar with.

 “Thank you. _Thank you_ …” It had been a low whisper, almost a silent prayer.

Weaknesses forgotten, Itachi stood up and made his way back home.

  .

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_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hexagram 32 is named 恆 (héng), "Persevering". Other variations include "duration" and "constancy". Its inner trigram is ☴ (巽 xùn) ground = (風) wind, and its outer trigram is ☳ (震 zhèn) shake = (雷) thunder.
> 
> Samue (作務衣?) is the work clothing of Japanese Zen Buddhist monks, worn when engaged in samu. Made from cotton or linen and traditionally dyed brown or indigo to distinguish them from formal vestments, samue are worn by monks of most Japanese Buddhist traditions. performing labour duty such as temple maintenance and field work. In modern times they have become popular as general casual or work wear. Shakuhachi players today, because of the instrument's historical association with Zen Buddhism, sometimes wear samue. - courtesy of Wikipedia.
> 
> So, last chapter I mentioned something was coming up. Honestly, I struggled so hard to let Shisui go, but his part has been played -kind of-. Also, I hope you will have enjoyed picking up all the hinted and implied stuff going on, albeit I realize the time line might be a little confusing sometimes... I'm working on it for sure, but that's also how it's supposed to be plot-wise, sort of like readers having access to the characters/events information just as they realize it's a key to yet another piece of the puzzle. Let me know what you think of it, thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> The NARUTO universe is Masashi Kishimoto's. 
> 
> The story title is taken from the song The Killing Moon by Echo & The Bunnymen. Updates for this one are going to be slow, I've got the first 3 chapters drafted out, another 2 outlined, so if things keep on track it should be a 8 to 10 chapters story (most likely including the prologue and epilogue/afterword). Tags & warning will be updated as the story progresses.


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